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ONLY A FIDDLER, 


A DANISH ROMANCE. 


BY 

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN, 

ti 

AUTHOR OF “THE IMPROVISATORS,” ETC. 


SEutljot’^s é&ittoii. 



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RIVERSIDE, CAMBRIDGE: 
STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY 
H. O. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY. 

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®. O, PUBLIC LIBBABY 
BHPT. 


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ns- 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


CHAPTER 1. 

^ Among those ruins, which occupy a circuit of two miles, the great 
temple is prominent over all the others, having almost completely pre- 
served its portico. It produces an almost startling effect, on the very top 
of the pediment, straight over the head of the golden eagle, to see now a 
stork’s nest. It is a pity that its inhabitants just now should have moved 
to their summer country-seat in Europe, so that perhaps some of my 
friendly readers may have seen the proprietor stalking solemnly about, 
while for me the empty nest only was left to contemplate. ” — Semilasso in 
Africa. 

W HEN the snow melts and the woods again become 
green, the storks return from their long journey. 
They have been in far Africa, have drunk of the waters of the 
Nile, and rested on the pyramids. The inhabitants of the 
Sicilian coasts and of the promontory of Messina relate how, 
at a certain time every year, the storks come over the sea in 
great flocks to rest themselves on the slopes of the mountains, 
which are then wholly covered by these creatures. Suddenly 
they again arise, and wing their way toward the north, over 
the snow and clouds of the Alps, ‘where the great multitude 
divides itself into smaller companies. . The smallest knows, as 
well as the largest, how to direct itself toward the land where 
it has its home : and it is not the smallest band which flies 
toward little Denmark. Each one knows the bay whither he 
must direct his course, knows the clump of trees, and the white 
chimney on the indented gable of the hall, where the empty 
nest awaits him. Strange, mystical bird ! Upon thy back 
^ rides spring into the land j the forests become green, the grass 
grows more joyously, the air becomes warmer. 

Such a pair had returned ; their nest stood on a farm-house 

I 


2 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


situated on a road leading from the town of Svendborg. They 
were both in the greatest activity, carrying into their nest, 
which needed repairs, a long straw band, three yards in length, 
which they had found in a field. Their industry was observed, 
and occasioned some talk in a little neighboring court-yard. 
The only peculiarities about the man in the court were a dark 
mustache and a cap, the top of which, like that of the Neapoli- 
tan, hung to one side. He leaned against the frame of an open 
window. In the room sat an equally powerful form upon a 
table ; a tschako would have suited better with the dark hair 
than the white cap, a sabre better in his hand than the needle 
which now figured between the fingers. The man before the 
window was a sergeant ; the figure on the table a master-tailor. 
A little boy pressed his nose against the window to see the 
storks. 

“ Droll creatures ! ” said the sergeant, curling his mus- 
tache ; “ not for a whole month’s pay should I like to shoot 
one of them ! They bring good luck wherever they build their 
nest; therefore the Jew has them also.” 

“Certainly,” replied the tailor, “they build on the Jew’s 
house, but we have the advantage. Year after year they give 
their tithe : one year, an egg ; the next, a young one. They 
stick their pointed beaks through his neck, and then hoist him 
out of the nest. Otherwise, it is quite fun, when they feed 
their young, or teach them to fly. The old ones, especially at 
feeding-times, play curious pranks. They stand straight up in 
the nest, bend their necks over their backs, their beaks over 
their tails, just as when a juggler bends backward to pick up 
a piece of money from the ground. First of all, they draw in 
their necks, and then dart them out again, to present nice lit- 
tle frogs and snails with which the young ones are feasted. 
But the most amusing thing to see is when the young birds are 
taught to fly. The maneuver generally takes place on the 
roof. The little ones go along, balancing themselves with their 
wings, like rope-dancers on a rope, and commence with little 
springs, for they are very heavy. Every time when I see the 
storks returning from their long journey, it seems to me no 
other than if I myself had returned from my long wander- 
ing. Then I have all kinds of thoughts : I remember the 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


3 

high mountains up which I climbed ; the beautiful cities where 
the houses were palaces, and where the churches were filled 
with wealth, like the emperor’s treasures. Yes, it is glorious 
abroad ! ” sighed he ; “ there, it is summer the greater part of 
the year. The dear Lord has made us pretty much his step- 
children. But what was I going to say? We were speaking 
of the storks. People are not yet able properly to understand 
the peculiarities of these birds. Before they depart, they reg- 
ularly assemble at certain places in the country. I have seen 
them by hundreds at Quarndrup. It was a thorough maneuver 
which they had there. They all struck their bills together at 
once, so loudly that one could not hear a single word for them. 
No doubt they were chattering about the journey which lay 
before them. They deliberated among themselves ; and sud- 
denly the greater portion fell upon the few remaining ones, 
and killed them. There lay ten dead on the spot. People 
said it was the weak ones, which had not strength sufficient for 
the long journey, that they had killed. Then the whole band 
rises toward heaven, making spirals in the air like a cork- 
screw. Good Heavens ! how high these birds can soar ! They 
resemble, at last, a swarm of bees, and then they vanish. The 
yolk in their eggs is blood-red ; one can see that it is a sum- 
mer-bird which has laid them.” 

“ Did the stork bring me also out of the hot countries ? ” 
asked the little boy, who still lay with his nose against the 
window, although he had heard every word which was spoken. 

“ He picked thee out of the mill-dam,” replied the father. 
“ Thou knowest that little children are brought out of the 
mill-dam.” 

‘‘ But they have no clothes on,” said the boy : “ how can 
the stork, then, know which are boys and which girls ? ” 

“Yes, on that account he often brings up a wrong one,” 
returned the sergeant; “he brings us a boy when we expect 
a girl.” 

“ Shall we not pass from the stork to the lark ? ” observed 
the tailor, jestingly, whilst he took a blue bottle down from the 
cupboard, which was decorated with cups and cans ; and 
amidst which sat a doll, just such as in Catholic countries one 
•ees the Mother of God represented by. 


4 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


“ Mother Maria sits there very nicely,” said the sergeant, 
pointing toward the doll. “You have dressed her yourself, 
doubtless ? ” 

“ The head is out of Austria,” answered the tailor ; “ the 
clothes I have sewn myself. Such things remind me of the 
journeys of my youth. Such a figure as this the children had 
placed on the table before the door ; little candles burned near ; 
and they begged from the passers-by. It is the Madonna’s birth- 
day, said they. But you should see my changing-picture ! I 
have made it myself.” He pointed to a badly painted picture 
in a large frame. “It represents Dr. Faust, as he sits in the 
middle of his study. On one side stands a clock ; it is twelve 
o’clock at night : on the other side lies the Bible. Pull the 
string, there, on the left. See ! the clock changes into a devil, 
who leads Faust into temptation. Now, we will pull this 
string on the right, and the Bible opens, an angel comes forth 
from the leaves and speaks words of peace.” As he had said, 
so did it happen ; and near each figure came, at the same 
time, a motto to view, containing the temptation of the devil 
and the warning of the angel. The tailor again pulled the 
string on the right hand ; the angel returned into the Bible 
and vanished ; the devil only remained with Faust. 

“ Zounds ! ” cried the sergeant ; “ have you contrived that ? 
You ought not to be a tailor; you have a head-piece ! ” 

“ I have put this picture together in imitation of a similar 
one I saw in Germany: the machinery I invented myself. 
Neither is the history of Faust my invention : I saw it, during 
my travels, in a puppet-show. The angel rose out of the Bi- 
ble to warn Faust; but the clock changed into Satan, who 
gained power over the doctor, when the angel retired and the 
book closed. This same Faust had an amanuensis. He knew 
the whole compact, and was himself on a dangerous path, but 
he drew back at the right time. Poor and miserable, one 
sees him in the last act, where he is a watchman in the town 
in which Faust lives. He knows that the devil will come to 
fetch his master so soon as he shall have announced twelve 
o’clock. One hears it strike twelve. The amanuensis, fold- 
ing his hands, calls out, ‘ The bell has he dare not pro- 

nounce ‘twelve,’ but merely lisps ‘tolled.’ But that does 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


D 

not help him ; Faust is borne away on red flames through the 
window.” 

“You are not made to sit upon a table,” said the sergeant; 
“ you only live in travelling and marching. In the field, that 
would be the life for vou! Forward ! March ! The badg-e 
of honor on your breast ! Before a year is past you will be a 
sergeant ! ” 

“ And my wife and child ? ” asked the tailor. “ The lad 
must then follow as piper, and she as a sutleress ! That would 
be no life for them ! No, one must be free and alone, and 
then the whole world is open before one ! Those were beau- 
tiful days when, for five whole years, I was my own master ! 
You see, sergeant, I was then just nineteen, and had neither 
father nor mother, nor any sweetheart either. Faaborg is a 
pretty little town, and there was I born and apprenticed. The 
neighbor’s Marie was already woman grown, whilst I was still 
called the lad ; therefore was I no little proud when the pretty 
girl, whom so many wooed, often extended her hand, and 
smiled upon me in a friendly manner : but that she should be- 
come my bride, my thoughts never rose so high ! I wished 
to travel as soon as I became a journeyman ; the world, about 
which 1 had heard and read so much, I wished to see and be- 
come acquainted with. Therefore, when the master-piece had 
succeeded and my savings had been counted, my knapsack 
was strapped together, and I bade adieu to all my friends. 
Now, in Faaborg, the church is at one end of the town, the 
tower at the other. In the evening before my journey, as I 
was passing the tower, Marie met me. She threw her arms 
round my neck, and kissed me on the lips. It was like fire, 
and never again did a kiss from any girl so penetrate to my 
heart ; I wished that the whole world had seen how Marie 
kissed me. The town has no watch, and only on the tower 
wall stand two painted watchmen, the size of life : they still 
stand there, for they are painted up every year. How I wished 
they had been alive ! I could not avoid saying to myself, in 
my heart. ‘ You have seen how the most beautiful girl in the 
world has kissed me ! ’ ” 

“ So, doubtless, you were engaged to each other ? ” observed 
the sergeant. 


6 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


“ By no means,” returned the tailor. “ I was as if born 
again, and my journey was commenced with a joyous mood. 
Five long years I travelled from one country to another , 
agreeable people, excellent masters I met with, but nowhere 
had I peace.” 

“ And Marie’s kiss was a bait to you ; you took pleasure in 
the company of girls ! ” 

“ Now, I will not make myself out better than I am ; but 
it is true that the first time when I abroad flung my arm 
round another girl, and received a kiss from her, my thoughts 
returned to Marie ; it was to me as if she saw us, and the 
blood rushed to my face. I never felt myself forlorn among 
strangers, and often when I had worked a few weeks in a 
town it seemed to me as though I had always 'wwked there, 
as though I had always sung songs with my companions. 
Only when I saw anything which made me feel completely 
away from home, such as the old Church of St. Stephen’s in 
Vienna, or the lofty mountains shrouded in clouds, did 
Faaborg stand before my eyes, and all my old acquaintance ; 
and whilst my eyes became moist at seeing all this splendor 
of the world, I thought involuntarily of the tower in my native 
town, and of the watchmen who had seen how Marie kissed 
me, and it seemed to me that it would be still more beautiful 
in these foreign countries were the old tower with its painted 
watchmen there, and Marie beside it in her gay bodice and 
green skirt. But I whistled a little song, and my gayety soon 
returned. Huzza ! thus I wandered with my companions fur- 
ther into the world ! ” 

“ But here with us it is also beautiful ! ” interrupted the 
sergeant. 

“ Yes truly, sergeant, there you are right ! When the fruit- 
trees are in bloom, the corn-fields are as odorous as a pot- 
pourri ! But you should only see how it is yonder, when one 
passes those mountains — the Alps, as they call them ! It is 
just as though a large garden lay before one, a garden which 
completely cuts out the Glorup garden, and leaves all royal 
gardens completely behind it. Marble, white as sugar, they 
hew out of the mountains, and grapes hang there as large as 
our plums. Three years I remained there. Once a letter 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


7 

reached me from my sister’s child out of Horne, and on the 
margin stood the words, ‘ Marie greets thee, and begs not to 
be forgotten : ’ they were from her own hand. Then my heart 
became tender. I knew well that it was love which I felt for 
Marie, and I had no longer any rest. A mighty yearning 
came over me, and I must away. Many nights I wandered 
solitarily along the road, past convents, through narrow village 
ways, over hill and dale. At length I heard again the Danish 
tongue, saw the spires of Horne, the heath-hills at Faaborg ; 
and when I sought Marie’s hand she said ‘Yes!’ Since 
then I have travelled no more ; I look at the storks when 
they depart and rejoice in their return. Yet, sometimes, I 
am not quite cheerful ; but then Marie has her own way of 
consoling one. Once a year we sail to Thorseng, and take a 
little exercise there. That is also travelling ! The longer 
journeys the lad can take when he is grown up ! There is 
courage in the lad, sergeant ! ” 

“ Therefore he shall drink of this clear stuff,” replied the 
sergeant, and gave the little boy a half filled glass. The lad 
seized the glass with both hands, and drank out of it till the 
tears ran out of his eyes. 

“ Here we have our little mistress ! ” cried the sergeant, as 
the mother entered the room at that moment. The full form 
and large brown eyes might have well recalled a heart from 
out the south. 

A somewhat severe glance was cast on the husband ; a 
short, but friendly greeting given to the sergeant, who tapped 
her in a friendly manner on the shoulder. “ The whole love- 
story I have heard,” said he ; “ have been with the master in 
the east and in the west.” 

“ Yes, he has nothing else to do,” replied she rather shortly, 
took off her shawl, and laid it in the drawer. “ He should 
have remained there if it was so splendid. God may know 
what he sought for here ! Now it is too cold ; again it rains 
too much ! Therefore I say to him so often : ‘ Travel ! no one 
keeps thee back. I can again go into service, and I shall 
earn bread enough for the boy.’ ” 

“ Marie,” said the husband, “ that thou dost not really 
mean I Had I not returned thou wouldst, perhaps, still have 
had no husband.” 


8 


ONLY A FIDDLER t 


“ I might have had three for one. The farmer’s son from 
Orebak courted me j but I was then such a fool as we women 
are, alas ! only too often.” 

“ Thou hast not repented ! ” said the husband, with a 
friendly manner, and laid his cheek against hers. She gave 
him a kiss, smiled, and went into the kitchen, where soon the 
fish was cooking for their small meal. 


CHAPTER II. 

So they walked among flowers, embraced each other, and trembled with 
joy.” — Oehlenschlager 

I N country towns, generally, each house has a garden, but 
the tailor’s house had none. Yet one must have some 
sort of a garden, if it be only to grow a little garlic in, and 
this they had managed. It was, if we may be allowed to say 
so, a kind of hanging garden, such as the poor in northern 
countries possess. A large box filled with earth was their 
garden ; it was fastened up high on the roof of the neighbor- 
ing house, so that the ducks might not get to it. 

Is green stuff wanted for the kitchen, a ladder must be put 
up to the box ; and this had to be done out of the kitchen. 
Between the shelves, ornamented with their pewter-plates and 
dishes, and the hearth, was the ladder fixed ; one person held 
the unsteady stairs whilst the other ascended to the ceiling, 
and, with half their body protruding through the opening, 
reached the garden. It was, indeed, a joy for the little lad 
when his turn came to climb up the ladder ! Once he had 
been permitted, swinging in his mother’s arms, to ascend out 
of the opening, and even touch the edge of the box with his 
feet. 

“ We have, perhaps, more enjoyment in our box,” said 
Marie, “than the Jew has in his beautiful garden. 

“ But we should very well like to have his garden,” replied 
the husband. “Beautiful flowers are said to grow in it — 
splendid plants, which grow in no other garden here in Svend- 
borg. On summer evenings, when the wind blows in this 
direction, we can smell the jasmine. Often the desire has 
seized upon me to climb up to the stork’s nest, so that I might 
look down into the garden. Marie, that proud poplar which 
rises high over the house can stir strange thoughts within me. 
When in summer the full moon shines, it stands out so strangely 


lO 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


contrasted against the blue heaven ; it is then as if I saw the 
large cypresses in Italy. Then, often when thou hast slept, I 
have got up and opened the window, and if a gentle breeze 
has borne to me the scent of the jasmine I have fancied myself 
in Italy.” 

“ Am I again to hear these speeches ? ” said Marie, and 
turned her back ; but the little boy listened with open ears to 
his father’s accounts. How willingly would he also have flown 
with the storks to strange countries ! Yes, how happy would 
he have felt, could he only once have sat on the roof so as to 
see the Jew’s garden ! A mysterious world moved there. 
Once he had been with his mother in the house, and had seen 
the Feast of Tabernacles. Never could he forget the beauti- 
ful vaults of fir-trees, the heads of asparagus, the splendid 
pomegranates under the ceiling, and the fine unleavened bread. 
In the long winter evenings the father read aloud out of the 
“ Arabian Nights ; ” his father’s own travels sounded to him 
equally full of adventure ; the stork was in his imagination a 
mysterious creature, like the roc ; and the Jew’s garden, which 
he had never seen, was like the home of Scheherazade with 
the golden fountain and the talking bird. 

It was in the month of July. The little fellow played in the 
turf-shed which formed the boundary between his home and 
his fairy-land. At one end of the little house some stones had 
got displaced. The boy knelt down to spy through the crevice 
in the wall, but he could only see a few green leaves which 
were shone upon by the sun. With a trembling hand he ven- 
tured to loosen a stone ; those that lay upon it tumbled down ; 
his heart beat, he did not dare to move. After a few moments 
he again summoned courage. The opening in the wall was 
become larger, but still he could only overlook the domain of 
a strawberry-bed; but to the boy’s imagination' there lay in 
this a feeling of wealth, such as a grown-up person experiences 
at sight of a fruit-tree overladen with fruit, when the branches, 
bowed by the rich weight, bend toward the earth. The leaves 
were large and full, though a few shone in the sun ; others, on 
the contrary, retired into the shade ; and in the midst of this 
luxuriant abundance hung two ripe berries, so fresh and red ! 
The grapes of Canaan could not have excited more glowing 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


1 1 

ideas of fruitfulness than did those two strawberries ! But in 
the contemplation lay also the temptation of gathering them ; 
but that was not to be attempted : to have loosened a stone 
was sin enough for one day. 

The following afternoon the stones still lay as ever. The 
green leaves quivered before the opening from the air, and the 
berries yet hung there ! Then did the little hand move with 
fear and touch the berries, but without gathering them. But 
when the little hand a second time touched the enchanting 
fruit, and the fingers had already surrounded the stems, did 
another little hand touch his, and he drew it away so quickly 
that another stone fell out. He hid himself in fear, and only 
after a few minutes of expectation did he venture to glide forth 
and look through the opening. A pair of large brown eyes 
met his glance, but they vanished again as quickly ; soon, how- 
ever, showing themselves again. They were the eyes of a 
sweet little girl ; full of curiosity waited she, at a prudent dis- 
tance from the opening. 

It was Naomi, the child of the Jew’s daughter, who was only 
a few years younger than the boy, and who was already known 
to him. He had seen her standing at her grandfather’s win- 
dows ; she had then little yellow laced boots on, and these had 
made an inextinguishable impression on him. 

For some time the children gazed at each other without 
moving. “Little boy!” said Naomi, after some time, “thou 
mayest come into the garden to me ; make the hole larger ! ” 

And, as though a powerful fairy had commanded it, down 
slid two more stones. 

“ What art thou called ? ” asked she. 

“ Christian,” answered the boy, as he thrust out his head 
into the garden, which was warmly shone upon by the sun. 
Naomi pushed aside the vine-leaves which shaded the wall, 
and Christian stood in the land of his dreams, forgetting him 
self in contemplation. 

An older person would only have seen here a pretty little 
garden full of rare flowers, vines trained along the walls, a pop- 
lar, and at some distance two acacias : but we must see things 
as the one who had just entered saw them ; we must, like him, 
breathe the strong odor of flowers, feel the warm sunbeams, 
behold the rich splendor. 


12 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


Luxuriant, broad-leaved vines, the odorous honeysuckle, and 
blue and red convolvuli crept over the wall, and formed a 
kind of tapestry. A crescent-shaped thicket of moss-roses 
closed around splendid stocks of unusual varieties of color, 
from a deep purple to snow-white ; their fragrance seemed to 
overpower all other odors. Beside the poplar, round which 
twined the dark green ivy with its firm leaves, stood Naomi, 
the lovely child with the gazelle-eyes, and the brown complex- 
ion which betrayed her Asiatic extraction ; but the blood shone 
fresh and beautiful through her round cheeks, shaded by her 
raven hair. A dark dress, confined by a leathern girdle, en- 
veloped her slender little form. 

She drew him to the bench under the acacia, where the pale 
red blossom hung down in thick bunches. The most beauti- 
ful strawberries were gathered. The boy looked around him, 
and imagined himself transported into another world, which 
lay far from his home. Then the stork on the roof clattered 
with his bill, and Christian recognized the nest and young 
ones which stood in it, and which seemed to observe him with 
their wise eyes. And he thought of his parents’ little court- 
yard, of the box with the garlic, and of the eaves of the neigh- 
bor’s house j and he was astonished to be so near them : the 
stork could overlook all. 

Naomi now took him by the hand and led him into the 
small garden-house, which could scarcely have contained four 
people, but to the children it was a splendid hall. The imag- 
ination of children can form castles and palaces out of sand. 

A single window of dark-red glass threw a magical light 
over the dark hangings of the walls, which represented all 
kinds of animals with flowers ; an ostrich-egg, which from the 
ruddy light assumed a peculiar color, hung under the arched 
roof. Naomi pointed to the window ; Christian hastened 
within, and there lay everything without in the most wonder- 
ful light. He was obliged to think of the burning mountain, 
about which his father had told him. All objects lay as in a 
sea of flame ; every bush and every flower glowed ; the clouds 
appeared fire upon a fiery ground ; the stork itself, the nest, 
and the young ones all glittered. 

“ It burns ! ” cried the boy \ but Naomi laughed at him, 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


13 

and clapped her little hands. As soon as the children looked 
at each other through the open door, everything assumed its 
natural hue ; nay, the green grass seemed to them still more 
lovely than before. The flowers had again their varied colors ; 
the stork was again white, and had red legs as always. 

“ Shall we play at selling money } ” asked little Naomi, 
drawing a straw through two leaves. This was to represent 
the scales ; yellow, red, and blue leaves meant gold. 

“ The red are the best,” said she. “ Thou must buy, but 
thou must give me something ; that is the pledge. Thou canst 
give me thy mouth ; we are only playing, I will not really 
keep it. Then thou wilt give me thy eyes, also.” She made a 
motion with her hand, as though she would take them both, 
and Christian received red as well as blue and yellow leaves. 
Never had he played so gloriously ! 

“ Good Heavens, Christian ! art thou there in the garden ? ” 
suddenly cried his mother through the opening in the wall. 

Terrified, the boy let go Naomi’s hand, and crept back 
through the hole to the paternal domain, where Iris reception 
consisted in several rather heavy blows on his shoulders. The 
stones were then replaced, and similar tricks, as Marie called 
them, forbidden in future. Over her work, however, she de- 
layed a little, looked at the garden, gathered the nearest straw 
berries, and put them into her mouth. 

The following morning on the garden side a wooden wall 
was placed against the opening. Probably Naomi had men- 
tioned the visit. In vain did Christian press the stones against 
the boards, dared even to knock at them j the entrance to the 
beautiful flower-land was closed. 

The whole splendor, the trees and the flowers, the red win- 
dows, and the beautiful Naomi, stood before his eyes ; in the 
evening he thought of them so long that sleep overpowered 
him. 


CHAPTER III. 


“ The pillars of smoke like whirlwinds appear, 

And shrieks for help salute the ear.” 

Gaudy’s Son£-s of Empire^ 

I T was night when Christian again woke ; a strange ruddy 
light, like that which he had seen through the colored 
glass, illuminated the room. He stretched his head out of 
bed : yes ! the window-frames had the same fiery color, the 
heavens the same burning brightness ; the dark poplar ap- 
peared to glow ; it was indeed a joy to him to see these fiery 
colors once again.- 

Suddenly there resounded a cry ; his parents sprang out of 
bed, the call of fire was heard. The whole of the Jew’s house 
stood in flames ; a shower of sparks fell in the neighboring 
courts ; the heaven was of a red hue, and the fire shot up- 
ward in long tongues of flame. Marie gave her boy over to 
the care of her opposite neighbor, and busied herself in col- 
lecting together, in the greatest haste, her most valuable 
possessions, for the fire had already seized upon the neighbor- 
ing house with the stork’s nest. 

The old Jew had his sleeping-room on the ground-floor, but 
he still slept, whilst the flames had already spun around him 
their deadly net. With the aid of an axe the tailor broke a 
hole through the wall, and went in, accompanied by some 
neighbors. There it was hot like the glow of an oven, but 
the wind bore rthe dazzling sparks over their heads. 

Still the fire-bell did not sound ; the watchmen shouted, 
but their whistles were silent. One had left his at home, 
because he had never used it ; the other carried his about 
with him, but when he was about to whistle it had, as he him- 
self said, lost its breath. 

The door was now broken in, but still no one showed him- 
^If. Suddenly a window sprang open : a cat, wild and 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


15 

screaming, made itself a passage, rushed up a tree, and 
vanished on the nearest roof. 

Three persons, it was well known, were in the burning 
house : the old Jew and his granddaughter, the little Naomi 
(who composed the family), and old Joel, the peddler Jew, as 
he was called, who formed the corps of domestics. It is true 
that there was a female who belonged to the house, Simonia, 
who assisted Joel, but she did not pass the night there. 

“ Break in the window in the roof ! ” shouted several voices, 
and the ladder was directed toward it. The smoke rushed 
thick and black through the window, the tiles already sprang 
with the heat, and the flames burst more boldly through the 
burning laths and rafters. 

“ Joel ! ” cried all, as he rushed out from the door, with an 
old dressing-gown thrown over his dry, yellow limbs. His 
long fingers grasped a silver cup, and beneath his arm was a 
box of papers. This was all which, as though instinctively, 
he had saved upon his flight. 

“ The grandfather and the child ! ” stammered he, as, over- 
powered by terror and heat, he leaned against the wall and 
pointed with his hand toward the room on the ground-floor. 
At this very moment the window there opened, and the old 
Jew, half naked, and with little Naomi in his arms, descended. 
The child clung fast to him ; several persons near sprang to- 
ward them, and held the ladder. ^ 

The old man already stood with one foot on the ladder ; 
he stooped over it with the child, when he suddenly hesitated, 
heaved a strange and dismal sigh, stepped back again, and 
vanished in the room. Black smoke and flames enveloped 
the window for a moment. 

“Lord Jesus!” exclaimed the people below, “where will 
he go to ? He will be burnt with the child ! It is the money 
which he has forgotten ! ” 

“ Make way ! ” cried a powerful voice ; and a man with 
dark and expressive features pressed through the crowd, 
sprang up the ladder, and with a firm hand seized hold of the 
window-frame, the upper portion of which was already wreathed 
with flame. The fire illuminated the room, the light quivered 
on the tottering floor ; the man climbed up and entered. 


i6 


ONL y A FIDDLER ! 


“ Was not that the Norwegian out of the Hollow Lane ? ” 
asked several voices. 

“ Yes, it was he ! He is a daring fellow ! ” 

The fire lit up every corner of the room in which he stood. 
Naomi lay on the ground ; the old grandfather was nowhere 
to be seen j but a thick, stifling smoke burst forth from a 
neighboring room through the open door. The man seized 
the child, and sprang out upon the tottering ladder. Naomi 
was saved, but the grandfather lay already stunned in the 
chamber whither he had penetrated to the well-filled money- 
chests. The roof, cracking, fell together ; a column of sparks, 
innumerable as the stars in the milky way, rose high into the 
air. 

Jesus, have mercy!” was the short miserere for a soul 
which in this moment through the flames passed over to the 
life of death. 

It was impossible to save any of the property, for every- 
thing stood in flames. Simonia stretched forth her arms, 
sobbing, and full of despair, toward the burning house, where 
her master had died the death of fire, and where but yester- 
day she had found a friendly shelter. Marie had taken in 
Joel, and thither was Naomi also taken. 

“ The stork ! the poor stork ! ” suddenly cried all the specta- 
tors. The approaching flames shone upon the nest, on which 
stood the mother-stork, and extended her large wings over her 
young ones to protect them from the increasing heat. The 
little things pressed against each other, and were too much 
terrified to flutter out of the nest. The mother beat with her 
wings, and stretched her neck far out. “ My stork ! my dear 
bird ! ” cried the tailor ; “ the poor thing must not be killed ! ” 

Immediately he placed the ladder against the roof, whilst 
others endeavored, by shouts and the flinging of stones, to 
drive the stork from the nest ; but the bird remained standing 
there. A thick, coal-black body of smoke drove, at this 
moment, along the wall ; so that the tailor was obliged to hold 
back his head, whilst fire and smoke flew over him. The 
flames seized the dry sticks of which the nest was woven ; it 
blazed up, and in the midst of the fire stood the faithful stork, 
and was burnt to death together with its young ones. 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


17 

The next day was the fire extinguished. The Jew’s hand- 
some house was now only a smoking heap of rubbish and 
ashes, among which were found the remains of his disfigured 
corpse. 

Toward evening the tailor and his little son stood on the 
place of the burning. The smoke, which arose here and there, 
was a sign that the fire was still burning beneath the ashes. 
The whole of the beautiful garden was now a trampled wilder- 
ness ; around lay black, half-burnt beams ; the vines and the 
lovely convolvuli were torn down from the garden-wall, and 
lay flung upon the ground and trodden under foot. The 
beautiful stocks had vanished, the rose-bushes were broken 
and covered with earth, one side of the acacia was singed, 
and, instead of the refreshing breath of flowers, you now only 
breathed the smoke of desolation. That sweet little garden- 
house had also been pulled down. A little piece of the red 
window was, so to say, all that Christian discovered of his old 
memories ; he looked through it, and the heaven glowed again 
as it had done when he looked through the red window with 
Naomi. Upon his parents’ house he saw a stork ; it was the 
father-stork, that had returned, and could neither find his nest 
nor the house on which his nest had stood. 

“ The poor bird ! ” said the tailor, affected ; “ the whole day 
has he been flying above the spot. Now he is going again. 
I will have a cross set up there, and then perhaps he will build 
his nest there again. How he looks about for the mother and 
the young ones ! They will never again fly together to the 
warm countries.” 

In the almost empty hovel stood old Joel, near to where the 
hole was in the wall. He supported himself against the wall, 
whilst his dark, moist eye was riveted upon an object which, 
imperfectly covered, lay on an empty bedstead. His thin, pale 
lips moved convulsively, and in a scarcely audible voice he 
spoke the following words to himself : — 

“ A box, then, shall be thy coffin, thou rich son of the race 
of Solomon ! the apron of a poor woman thy pall ! Ah ! no 
daughters of Israel will wash thy body ; the red flames have 
done that. The fire was more dry than the herbs, more red 
than the roses which we cast into the bath of our dead. But 


2 


i8 


QJ^LY A FIDDLER 1 


thy tombstone shall stand at Bet achaim^ even should poor 
Joel be thy only follower. Thou shalt enter thy consecrated 
grave, where the black underground stream will carry thee to 
Jerusalem.” 

He removed the apron, and raised the lid from the box in 
which lay the consumed remains of his master ; his lips quivered 
convulsively, tears streamed down over his wrinkled cheeks, 
but his words were hollow and not to be understood. 

“ Lord Jesus, be merciful to him ! ” exclaimed Marie, as she 
entered ; but a blush overspread her countenance when she 
had spoken these words : she feared to have wounded the. 
mourner by pronouncing the holy name in which he did not 
believe. “ God may,” repeated she, therefore, quickly and 
with emphasis, — “ God will be merciful to him.” 

“ His tombstone shall stand near his daughter’s,” said Joel, 
and again covered the melancholy remains. 

‘‘ She lies buried in Frideritz,” said Marie ; “ you must be 
taken a long distance to find a grave. I remember very well 
the night she was removed : her coffin was packed in straw, 
and her father, who now lies there in coal and ashes, and you, 
Joel, were with it. The rain fell in torrents from heaven. 
The poor child is the only one remaining. The old grand- 
father was Naomi’s sole support.” 

“ Her mother was of our people,” pursued Joel ; and then 
added, in a somewhat proud tone, “ Our community allows no 
one of its body to perish. I, old man as I am, shall receive 
my bread, and I will divide it with her, if she find not a place 
at a more wealthy table. In the house of the Christian be- 
longs the Christian child,” added he, but in so low a tone that 
Marie could not hear. 

“ The child is with us,” returned Marie ; “ for God’s sake 
let her remain here until something better offers : where the 
pot cooks for three, a fourth can eat his meal.” 

Late on the following evening, when it was become dark 
and quiet in the streets, there moved along a little band 
through the town toward the bridge of boats : first went the 
tailor, with a little lantern in his hand ; Joel followed him, his 

1 “ Bet achaim^' i. e. the house of the living ; the name given by the 
Jews to their burial-grounds. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLE it I . 19 

bundle on his shoulder, the box under his arm ; Marie, with 
Christian and Naomi, brought up the rear. The little girl 
wept bitterly; Joel kissed her hand and brow, and went on 
board the yacht which was lying under weigh. But few words 
were exchanged. Silently stood the rest of the party on the 
bridge, where the cables were loosened. 

And by the light of the rising moon did Christian see how 
the sails unfolded themselves, and the vessel glide slowly along 
over the mirror of the sea, for all outlines showed themselves 
distinctly in this moon-twilight. 

Poets tell us of the Gypsies who took down their chief from 
the gallows, placed a crown upon his head, and clothed him 
in a purple robe, thus to lay him in the stream which should 
bear him to Egypt, where he would rest in the pyramids. A 
similar thought filled the boy’s soul ; it seemed to him as if 
Joel were travelling with the dead into a distant land of fancy, 
which, perhaps, was not far from the Jewish city, Jerusalem. 

“ How similar to the Rhine scenery near Mayence ! ” ex- 
claimed the tailor, pointing across the straits to the island of 
Thorseng. 

“ Good heavens ! ” exclaimed Marie, “ how is it possible 
for thee to think of such things now ? We ought to be in a 
graver mood, even though it be a Jew whom we bury. Poor 
people ! even in death they have no rest ; they must even 
travel to be laid beneath the earth ! ” 

She looked sorrowfully after the vessel, which slowly glided 
along the waves, and every moment removed itself from the 
eyes of those who remained behind. 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ To-day, my dolly, there’s no time for sorrow ; 

But O, my dolly, to-morrow, to-morrow ! ” — Lullaby. 

H OW easily and soon does a child forget its sorrows ! — 
perhaps as easily and soon as we forget this earthly 
life when once we breathe in the other world. 

Naomi had wept much at first over her grandfather ; now a 
childish smile took the place of her early tears. The great 
blooming world had already turned on its axis, and that influ- 
ences the sorrow of a child more than weeks and months are 
able to influence us, grown-up people. In the tailor’s little 
room she soon made herself at home with her friendly play- 
fellow. A pretty mourning dress had been sent her, and she 
had a deal of delight in it. 

“ May I wear it every day ? ” asked she ; “ must not I 
take care of it ? else it will be no longer new when I go into 
mourning again.” She did not inquire less after her pretty 
toys, her doll, and her little kitchen-ware, than after her grand- 
father. This should not appear singular to us : she spoke as 
all children speak. Quite delighted sat she on the high door- 
sill, with a large cabbage-leaf in her hand, which must at the 
same time be to her fan, arbor, and garden ! The whole de- 
stroyed flower-garden, with all its odors, was supplied to her 
by this one leaf ! 

Ill-shapen, carelessly heaped-up stones, formed the steps of 
the street-door. Naomi sat on the steps ; the apertures be- 
tween the stones she called her mills, the sand which Chris- 
tian poured into them was the corn which should be ground. 
They were forced to play as well as they could, for Christian 
had no playthings except a top, which must constantly spin 
round before Naomi ; and certainly this top was very pretty: 
a brass nail was seen in it, and it was painted with red and 
blue rings. 


ONL Y A FIDDLER I 


21 


That is a dancing flower,” said Naomi. 

‘‘ No,” cried Christian, “ let it be our enchanted man who 
must serve in the mill, but who only does good when he re- 
ceives many stripes. Listen, how he grumbles ! — see, how 
he springs ! ” 

“ Now he shall die ! ” said Naomi ; ‘'then we will bury him, 
like the grandfather ; and then we will play at mourning, and 
holding a funeral — that is so amusing ! ” 

And Christian acted as both the chorister and sexton. The 
children laid the top in a hole, and scattered grass over it. 
They then played at the alarm of fire ; the bells were rung, and 
people came to extinguish it. Some neighbors’ children joined 
them, and the game assumed quite another character ; they 
soon came to an understanding, and they were all soon friends 
and old acquaintance, although Naomi had never before seen 
these strange children. But the child has the same feeling to- 
ward the companions of his own age that we older people 
have when we see flowers with which we are acquainted : we 
greet them all as old friends, although each flower which is 
thus presented to us we see for the first time. 

The game which the children next fixed upon no grown 
person would so easily have guessed : they took off their shoes, 
reared them up along the wall, and then walked up and down 
before them. This was an illumination which they were look- 
ing at. 

It was then the custom in Svendborg, at weddings, for the 
guests to accompany, by torch and lantern-light, the bridal 
pair from the bride’s to the bridegroom’s house ; therefore the 
children now seized upon the shoes, which were to represent 
lanterns, to conduct the bridal pair, Christian and Naomi. 
How glorious this game appeared to Naomi ! and what were 
dolls, pictures, and flowers, in comparison with these living 
playfellows.? Tenderly she leaned toward Christian, who 
threw his arm round her neck and kissed her lips. She gave 
him the locket which hung upon her breast ; with this she 
would adorn him, and then he would be a count ; and they 
kissed each other again, and the other children stood round 
them and lighted them with their shoes. 

This was indeed a singular picture of still life. The little 


22 


ONLY A FIDDLE m 


swallows busily adorned the nests above them ; the bridal 
chambers under the eaves, and the clouds in the blue heavens, 
seemed to meet and melt into each other : but they separated, 
the lower ones moved toward the east, the upper ones toward 
the west, even as the laws of nature governed these currents 
of air. 

The children’s game was suddenly interrupted : a kind of 
calash, such as was used twenty years ago, a clumsy machine 
of wood, painted blue, and lined on the inside with gray woolen 
stuff, rolled past them, over the uneven stone pavement. One 
may still see such vehicles in the country and in small towns ; 
well-to-do clergymen drive about in them ; but the vehicle 
itself, the coachman, and the harness refer to another genera- 
tion : they seem to have overlived themselves. The horses 
were in good condition, and had toupets ; the coachman, in an 
antique livery, made a genteel face, which clearly betrayed how 
well aware he was that it was a noble family whom he drove. 
The carriage drew up before the apothecary’s shop, where a 
vast number of pill boxes, medicine bottles, and ointment boxes 
were exchanged for others, but all in the greatest haste. The 
carriage now drove on, but soon paused again before the 
tailor’s door. Beside the coachman and footman, the carriage 
contained two ladies — a young one who seemed an inferior 
(perhaps a lady’s maid), and an elder one, a tall and high-born 
lady of a sickly appearance ; she was well wrapped up in 
shawl and cloak, and held from time to time a silver smelling- 
bottle to her nose. 

It was the work of a moment for Marie to stand before the 
carriage and courtesy, then kiss respectfully the hand of the 
old noble lady, and assure her that her wishes should be im- 
mediately fulfilled. 

The windows in the neighborhood opened forthwith — nay, 
even several dames looked out from their doors, not, as now, 
in silk and gauze, but in red bodices, and their hair covered 
with caps. The children, who had ceased playing, stood 
looking on ; they had arranged themselves along the wall, 
and stood with their arms flung round each other. Christian 
understood of all this, only that in great haste an apron was 
wrapped round Naomi, and that she was then lifted up to the 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


23 


strange lady in the carriage ; and in all this it seemed as 
though nothing unexpected were taking place. Marie cour- 
tesied, and the tailor stood at the door with his cap in his 
hand. 

“ I do not wish to ride,” said Naomi, as they placed her in 
the carriage : but this she was forced to do, whether she wished 
it or no ; and therefore she wept aloud, and stretched forth 
her arms toward the other children, whilst the carriage rolled 
away. Then the boy burst into tears, the separation was so 
sudden and unexpected. 

“ Now wilt thou be silent ? ” said Marie to him ; “ or else I 
will give thee something to cry for ! ” 

“ Where shall my wife go to ? ” asked he. 

“ Far away, to learn what the world is. Thank thy God 
that thou art neither fatherless nor motherless ! Yes, some 
time thou wilt know what that is. How would it be with thee, 
if thou must travel away with strange people ? ” 

She sank into a strange, grave fit of meditation, whilst she 
gazed at the boy, and then pressed him violently to her bosom. 
“ Now thou mayest go and visit thy godfather in Hollow Lane,” 
said she ; “ make haste, and use thy legs ! ” 

She drew the boy with her into the room. 


CHAPTER V. 


“ L’archet allait toujours, comme le balai au sorcier qui apporte de Teau 
dans notre ballade allemande. Le violon et l’archet allaient toujours, tou- 
jours de nouveaux sons, de chants inconnus.” — Contes faniasiiques^ par 
Jules Janin. 


HE town of Svendborg still bears the stamp of a little 



1 country town of the last century : irregular houses, the 
upper stories of which protrude beyond the lower and rest upon 
isolated props ; gable-ends which deprive the neighbor of all 
view at the side j broad flights of steps leading to the doorways, 
with stone or wooden benches placed on either side the door, 
are still everywhere to be found there. Many a door is still 
adorned with its Danish or Latin inscription, carved in wood. 
The uneven streets are like a paved chain of hills, over which, 
in a broken line, the way leads now up, now down. In some 
places one fancies one’s self in a mountain city, especially in 
the Hollow Lane, which nowadays is well known as the forum 
of smugglers and low adventurers. When one looks dow-n 
from the elevated High Street into this lane, the view is cer- 
tainly very picturesque. Huge blocks of freestone piled one 
upon the other form the ground-floor of the nearest houses, 
and these, owing to the precipitate declivity, lie in a direct 
line with the second stories of the adjoining houses. In this 
manner, one sees from the High Street down upon the roofs 
and chimneys of the little neighboring street, and overlooks 
a considerable portion of the Svendborg Sound, the whole 
wood-garlanded coast of Funen, together with portions of the 
islands of Langeland and Thuro. 

In this street lived Christian’s godfather. The boy had al- 
ready reached the corner of the street, and looked over the 
houses toward the three-masted vessel, which even now seemed 
to be sailing over the chimneys. 

As was always the case, the street-door of the godfather’s 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


25 


house was locked, but in the room resounded the tones of a 
fiddle. Every one who has a feeling for music would have 
been astounded at the sounds. It was that melancholy la- 
ment which gave rise to the legend about Paganini’s violin, 
that the virtuoso had killed his mother, and that it was her 
soul which spoke out of the strings. 

Soon the tones passed over into melancholy. Ole Bull, the 
Amphion of the North, called the same thema the lament of a 
mother over the death of her child. Certainly not so per- 
fectly as these two masters in the art of Jubal, yet in the man- 
ner of both did the godfather play ; in the same manner that 
the green branch in all its minute parts resembles the tree to 
which it belongs. 

Like Ole Bull, he was a Norwegian, and we have already 
heard him called so at the conflagration, when he rescued Na- 
omi. His cradle had stood among the rocks and ice-moun- 
tains. He often told Christian about his home, and of the 
Neck who lives in the mountain torrents, and who sits in the 
moonlight on the waterfalls with his long white beard, and 
plays so enchantingly that one is tempted to precipitate one’s 
self down to him. The poor son of Oceanus ! when he 
played his very best the boys would only jeer him, and cry, 
“ Thou canst not be saved ! ” and then would the river-god 
weep clear tears, and vanish in the stream. 

“ The Neck has, no doubt, taught thy godfather how to 
play,” had a neighbor once said to Christian ; and, from that 
time forth the boy, each time he heard his godfather’s violin, 
must think of the Neck in the roaring waterfall, and then he 
became quiet and thoughtful. 

Therefore to-day he seated himself on the door-sill, leaned 
his head against one of the door-posts, and listened to the ex- 
traordinary tones : not until the fiddle ceased did he knock. 

The man, whom we already know, and who had scarcely 
passed his best years, opened the door. His brown counte- 
nance and his raven-black hair seemed to announce an inhab- 
itant of the South, or Jewish extraction ; which, however, the 
bright blue eyes strangely enough contradicted, so entirely in- 
dicating a dweller of the North, and so strangely contrasting 
with his bushy, black eyebrows. For a moment one could 


26 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


have imagined that the countenance and hair belonged to a 
mask, and that only a very fair person could have such clear 
eyes. 

“ Is it thou, Christian ? ” asked he, casting a squinting 
glance at the boy. 

With feelings which were a mixture of fear and reverence 
did the boy regard him, for the presence of this man inspired 
something of that sentiment which is ascribed to the playing 
of the Neck and the glance of the serpent. If he were at 
home, he unceasingly yearned after his godfather, and it was 
his greatest wish to go to him ; and yet, when he was once 
there, that strange feeling fell upon him which overpowers us 
when either we step alone in a fearful vault or find ourselves 
in a dark wood where we have missed our way. Each time 
that he visited his godfather he received two small pieces of 
money as a present ; yet it was not this money that attracted 
him thither, but his godfather’s tales about the immense pine- 
forests and glaciers of Norway, about the magicians and spirits ; 
but, above all, it was the music, for his godfather’s fiddle in 
its way related equally as wonderful things as his mouth. 

When Christian had entered, the door was closed again. 
Upon the walls of the little room hung several pictures which 
had a peculiar interest for him : there were representations of 
the “ Dance of Death,” in colored prints, after the paintings in 
the Church of Maria at Lubeck ; all must here take part in 
the dance, from the Pope and the Emperor to the child in the 
cradle, which exclaims in astonishment, — 

“ O Death, this art how can I know ? 

That I must dance, yet cannot go ! ” 

Christian looked at the figures in the pictures, and it oc- 
curred to him that they all turned their backs to him ; he in- 
quired what this could mean. 

“ They have moved in dancing,” answered the godfather, 
and arranged the figures. “ Hast thou stood long outside the 
door ? ” he then asked. 

“ No, not long ; thou wast playing on the fiddle, and I lis- 
tened. If I had been here should I have seen how Death 
danced, and how the puppets moved ? for it is all true which 
thou hast told me of them, is it not?’ 


ONLY A FIDDLER/ 


27 

“ They shall be thine,” replied the godfather, and took down 
the pictures from the wall. “ Tell thy father that I have given 
them to thee ; the glass and frames, however, I shall keep my- 
self. They are pretty figures, are they not .? Thou canst like 
them ? Am I not good Speak ! ” 

The little fellow replied in the affirmative, at the same time 
terrified at his godfather’s sharp looks. 

“ Why hast thou not brought thy little playfellow with thee ? 
She is called Naomi, is she not ? You might both of you have 
come.” 

“ She is gone,” replied Christian ; “ she was driven away by 
the grand coachman.” And then he related as well as he 
could all he knew of Naomi’s sudden departure. 

The godfather listened with a certain excitement, and then 
smiled. The fiddle-bow again danced away over the strings, 
and if they sang what passed through the godfather’s mind 
whilst he smiled, his must have certainly been feverish and 
bad thoughts. 

“ Thou must also learn to play the fiddle,” he suddenly 
broke forth ; “ that may make thy fortune : thou canst win 
money by playing, and drive away thy sorrows when thou hast 
any. Here, thou shalt have my old fiddle, for the best I can« 
not give thee yet. In this manner place thy fingers;” and, 
saying these words, he laid the violin on the little fellow’s arm, 
and guided himself the bow in Christian’s hand. 

The tones rejoiced the little fellow ; he had made them him- 
self! His ear caught up each one, and his little fingers 
passed easily over the strings. 

Nearly a whole hour did the first lesson last. The god- 
father then took the instrument himself and played ; that was 
fiddling ! He trifled with the tones as a juggler who plays 
with his golden apples and sharp knives. 

“ Ah, only play how Death dances ! ” besought the boy, and 
the godfather drew forth some sharp tones so that the bass- 
strings still vibrated, whilst the quinte hissed in soft tones. 

“Dost thou hear the Emperor? He appears amidst the 
sound of trumpets ; but now comes Death, he drives along like 
a whistling wind I Dost thou hear the Pope ? He sings 
psalms ; but Death shakes his scythe ! Beautiful maidens 


28 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


float along in a giddy dance ; but Death — yes, thou dost 
hear him ? — he sings like a mourning cricket ! ” And the 
godfather closed his eyes ; upon his brow stood large drops of 
sweat. 

He then laid aside the violin, and opened the door of the 
garden which led down to the sea, where swam the wood-gar- 
landed island in the quiet ocean. It was now the hour of sun- 
set. 

The whole garden consisted of one single cabbage planta- 
tion. Christian observed the plants attentively; they were 
just forming heads. 

“ The executioner would like them,” said he. 

“ What art thou saying, boy ? ” asked the godfather in a se- 
vere tone. 

“ I mean that the executioner would, no doubt, like to have 
these cabbages,” pursued Christian; “for last year mother 
told me so, when we passed by his garden. She said, if I 
went apprentice to him, I must, every time cabbage was 
wanted, exercise myself in striking off the cabbage-heads with 
an axe, and hit just where my master had made a mark on the 
stem.” 

“ Silence ! ” cried the godfather in unusual excitement, and 
pushed the boy so violently that he tumbled among the cab- 
bages. By this means the locket came to view which little 
Naomi had given him. 

“ What hast thou there ? ” asked the Norwegian, assisting 
the boy to rise, and looking at the locket. He cast a glance 
at the lock of hair it contained, and distorted his countenance 
to that smile which the head of a dissected corpse is capable 
of displaying when the galvanic bar touches its tongue. Sud- 
denly he turned back to the house, but soon again returned 
with the rolled-up pictures, and the two pieces of money 
wrapped in paper. He then opened the garden-door which 
led to the Hollow Lane, and the visit was at an end for to-day. 
But Christian heard not how the godfather’s fiddle sounded 
in the gayest measures. It was the merriment of a slave-ship, 
where the poor slave, in order that he may enjoy exercise, is 
driven on with the whip. 

The following day the Norwegian paid a visit to Christian’s 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 


29 

father. He brought cabbage-leaves and fresh grass for the ca- 
nary-bird, and changed the cage of the natural musician into 
a green tabernacle. The little bird commenced a song of ju- 
bilee, and the Norwegian godfather listened with an attentive 
air to these bold, exulting tones, as though he would learn 
them from the bird and breathe them into his violin. The 
tailor listened with pleasure to the godfather’s playing, for it 
awoke his recollections of distant lands. But Marie found 
something ghostly in his music, and we might almost grant 
that she was right. 

In Paris there is a kind of engraving with the inscription 
Diabolique^ in which is contained every diabolical conception 
which human fancy has been able to conceive. One of these 
represents a place of execution. A stake, on which the crim- 
inal is to be bound, stands up alone j high on this sits the 
devil with folded arms, and with his legs stretched out at right 
angles from the stake, so that stake and devil form together a 
Golgotha cross. A young woman kneels before this supposed 
holy sign, whilst everywhere appear jeering demon faces. At 
the first glance, one imagines she is praying before the cross ; 
but one soon perceives that it is the devil before whom she 
kneels. A similar picture, but in tones, did the playing of 
the Norwegian present you with. 

The instruction which he again this day imparted to the 
boy was to be regularly pursued several hours every week ; 
for the boy used his fingers well, he possessed capacity and 
feeling for music. 

“ This may, perhaps, some time gain him bread,” said 
Marie. 

“ It may give him an opportunity of looking about him in 
the world,” added his father. 

“ So, then, thou thinkest he shall be a vagabond ! ” re- 
marked the mother. “ Thou hadst much better have appren- 
ticed him to the rope-dancer who passed through here the 
other day ; he could then have travelled well about the 
world.” 

“ Thou sayest something that is worth hearing ! ” remarked 
the tailor. “ Perhaps he might have made his fortune there. 
Shouldst thou not like to be as light as a bird, Christian ? to 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


30 

fly along the thin rope, whilst people are applauding thee? 
And then thou couldst travel from country to country, and 
couldst see a deal ! ” 

‘‘ Yes, truly ! and heavy blows he would get,” answered 
Marie for the boy. “Oil upon his bread — that disgusting 
oil ! by means of which those people become flexible. No, 
no, we will have nothing to do with this ! Let him only play 
the fiddle ; he is no juggler on that account.” 

“ He shall play himself into the girls’ hearts,” cried the 
godfather. “ I can see it in him that he will be a wild 
bird ! ” 

“ Yes,” answered Marie, “ let him become that if he will, 
but no liar or thief ! Besides, his beauty will never make him 
very lucky with the girls. Heaven knows from whom the lad 
has got that strange face ! ” 

Most parents consider their children handsome, but Marie 
belonged, in this respect, to the rare exceptions ; for she 
could see that her son was not handsome. Yet, neither could 
any one call him ugly. If you step into the Church of St. 
Nicholas, in Svendborg, you see, in the principal aisle, a large 
painting hanging against the wall ; the pastor Monsing pre- 
sented it to the church when his wife died. In it stand the 
pastor and his wife, with their two daughters and seven sons, 
represented the size of life. Before them lie three little chil- 
dren, in swaddling-clothes, as dead. The number of these 
children, therefore^ is twelve ; and all, with the exception of 
one, who seems to be the youngest, are handsome. This 
child the painter has represented with a rose in his hand, as 
though he vwould give him something beautiful. Our Chris- 
tian resembled this portrait ; the likeness was so strong that 
the parents themselves were struck by it ; and the godfather’s 
words had reference to it when he said, “ The fiddle shall be 
a rose in his hand, as in the picture in our church.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


Link. — Bim, bim, bim, bim, bim, bim, bim, bim, 

Bim, bim, bim, bim, bim bim, bim ! 

Hammer. — He shall remember the sound of bells. 

Ho : a Vaudeville by Heiberg. 

S OME day, when I sail to Thorseng, I will take Christian 
with me,” said the Norwegian godfather at his depart- 
ure. 

It was the middle of August when this festival day was an- 
nounced to little Christian with the words, “To-morrow we 
will travel 1 ” The weather would be fine : the sun had set in 
a clear sky, and no clouds showed themselves in the west. 

“ Is it long till to-morrow ? ” asked the little fellow when he 
was gone to bed. 

“ Only shut thy eyes and go to sleep, and it will be morning 
before thou art aware,” replied the mother. But in the night 
Christian woke up again, and asked how long it would be 
before morning. 

“ Shall I get up and close thy eyes for thee ? ” was the 
answer he received, and he dared not ask another question. 

At day-break he was at length permitted to rise. The clean 
hempen shirt, with the collar of fine linen, was put on j and 
then his Sunday clothes and the new laced boots with white 
seams. 

His godfather already waited for him at the door ; and now 
they set out on their journey. Not toward the bridge of boats 
did the two direct their steps, for this was not the week-day on 
which the ferry took over citizens free ; but they went to St. 
Jiirgenshof, the fishing- village. A thick mist had fallen, so 
that the meadows gleamed like lakes ; the birds sang, and the 
.godfather imitated their notes. There was no time for gather- 
ing flowers, but a long spray of white convolvulus was snatched 
from the wall of earth and wreathed round Christian’s hat, in 
which was stuck a small green branch as a feather. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


32 

In the hollow way, where still an old cross stood, a relic of 
the Catholic times, sat a group of merry country people, who 
devoured their breakfast and passed the pitcher of ale round 
from hand to hand. 

“ In his hat wears my sweetheart a feather ; 

In Copenhagen the monarch he serves, ” — 

sang one of the girls, whilst she stretched forth her hands 
toward Christian ; but the godfather flung his arm round her 
waist, and pressed a kiss on her lips. 

Through the quiet wood, which is appropriated to the minis- 
ter’s use, they reached the old church and the convent-farm, 
which rise in the southern point of Funen, close to the deep 
straits of Svendborg. To the left, beneath the heights, lay the 
fishing-village with its red chimneys; the fishing-nets being 
spread out on the willow-trees. In the low stone basin rocked 
a boat ; two men were busied in it scooping out the rain-water 
and loosening the sail of the light vessel. They evidently ex- 
pected the arriving party. 

“ Will you take that lad with you ? ” asked one of the men 
with a grave mien. 

“ He is my little ass, my little beast of burden,” replied the 
Norwegian, smiling. “ He shall see Thorseng, the castle, and 
the tower of Breininge. Art thou not a pious little ass ? ” 

He then seized hold of one of the oars himself, for the wind 
blew so faintly that they were obliged to assist the sail. The 
boat flew over the clear green water, leaving behind, on the 
broad expanse, its foamy track. Christian sat beside the rud- 
der, near the steersman. The jelly-like sea-anemones lay, like 
transparent flowers on the watery mirror, betraying life by 
their gentle movement on the calm water. The green sand- 
bottom which he had first seen gradually disappeared, and the 
little boy only saw the boat and his own form in the watery 
mirror, which returned his greetings in a friendly manner. 
They now cut across the current, and glided then into the 
shadow which the coast of Thorseng threw upon the water. 
The godfather lifted his hat a little — he appeared to do so 
quite accidentally, yet was this an old custom of his country ; 
a greeting given to the Neck, whose power is strongest so far 
as the shadow of the rock extends. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


33 


Now were the oars laid aside, and they set foot on the lovely 
island of Thorseng. The godfather and the fishers spoke 
secretly among themselves, but Christian did not hear what 
they said. The new prospect, the rich luxuriance of growth 
which surrounded him, overpowered his curiosity. 

They ascended ever higher between houses and gardens. 
Richly laden fruit-trees stood on either side the way ; huge 
props supported the boughs bending beneath the weight of 
their rich blessing. Wild hops wound themselves over the 
hedges ; and far below, at the declivity of a hill, lay a peas- 
ant’s cottage, around which the hop-poles were so placed that 
they partly rested on the roof ; and the hops, like the richest 
vine-foliage, twined their many-leaved sprays and seemed to 
form tabernacles. Before every house was a flower-garden. 
The hollyhocks sent forth flower after flower of red and yellow, 
and almost reached half-way up the houses. Here, where every- 
thing lay protected, the heat was still more powerful. A stran- 
ger, suddenly transported to this region, would have fancied 
himself in some more southern country. The Svendborg Sound 
would have reminded him of the Danube. Yes, truly, here it 
was summer ! glorious summer ! The wild mint sent forth its 
odor from ditches, which were shaded by blood-red barberries 
and the elder, the berries of which were already forming. 

“ It will be a hot day for us, ” said the godfather, but they 
immediately consoled themselves with the hope that a cart 
would soon come and take them up. 

Not a single cloud showed itself in the whole sky. A bird 
of prey flew up, and with the many strokes of its wings directed 
its course toward the near wood. The whole heat of the day 
seemed to rest upon the back of this bird. The godfather was 
unusually gay ; he made Christian a trumpet out of the stem 
of a reed, and pushing the pith out of an elder branch, made 
him, also, an excellent whistle. All this took place during their 
wandering, and amidst various subjects of conversation. 

A cart now rolled past, enveloped in a cloud of dust, which 
resembled the smoke of a cannon which has just been fired, 
and which seemed to rest in the air. The cart stopped and the 
travellers were willingly taken up, and Christian even received 
3 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


34 

as a present a large cabbage-leaf, full of black cherries, from the 
peasant, who apparently knew the godfather very well. 

In the next moment a company joined itself to them : two 
troopers overtook them. 

Upon a peaceful island there are no robbers, and yet these 
new-comers had a somewhat suspicious appearance. Each 
had a pistol in his breast-pocket, and a loaded piece under his 
arm. They commanded the peasant to stop, at the same time 
casting searching glances around. They then examined the 
cart, but having found nothing suspicious they made a light 
excuse, and rode away as fast as they had come. 

Whilst all this occurred the godfather had kept himself com- 
pletely passive, but the peasant muttered scornfully. “ This 
time they have fished nothing,” said he. 

That must be a bitter life,” added the godfather. “In sum- 
mer it may be all very well, but when the white bees swarm, 
and the wind hisses over from the sea, it must be hard enough 
to wander about the whole night, only at last to be led by the 
nose by cleverer fellows. Take care, Andreas Hansen ! they 
have got you in view ! I might almost get into bad repute 
myself,” added he smiling, “ because I travel with you.” 

Who were these men, and what did they search for ? Long 
did the whole affair busy little Christian ; but at length the gay 
prospect which the day presented drove away all recollections 
of it. He saw the old castle of Thorseng again, where he had 
already been once with his parents. It was the largest build- 
ing which he had ever seen, for it was even larger than the 
churches in Svendborg. He, as yet, only knew the exterior ; 
and at most he had only peeped through the window. It 
happened, fortunately, to-day, that travellers were there to see 
the castle : and thus he ascended the high flight of steps with 
his godfather, and wandered through the long corridors and 
great halls. Many portraits of old times — portraits, the 
originals of which had long since turned to dust, gazed down 
upon him. To each date associated itself a history or legend, 
which lend such an effectual light to old paintings j a meaning 
such as resembles that produced when we behold a marble 
statue by torch-light. The portrait of a blooming woman, who 
smiles in the consciousness of beauty, sinks us in melancholy 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 35 

when we reflect that centuries have fled since she rejoiced in 
life. 

Not for all the treasures in the world would Christian have 
slept in the old canopy-bed, with its rustling silk hangings. 
No doubt in the night the figures would step out of the frames 
and tapestry ; and Niels Juel, the admiral, with his sword, take 
his place in the gay arm-chair with the high back. Even the 
long mirrors, in which you could see yourself from head to foot, 
had something mysterious for Christian, who had only been 
accustomed to see his little face in his father’s shaving-glass. 

Therefore he breathed more freely when he was once more 
in the open air, and felt far happier when he had reached the 
fishing-hut on the shore, where the wife left the gooseberries 
to his free disposal, and the fisher-boys showed him their boat 
which they had made out of their father’s wooden shoe, but 
which, nevertheless, was adorned with masts and streamers, 
and which sailed as proudly on the high water as the other 
well-manned vessels. A large glittering insect flew by chance 
past the little vessel, settled on the sail, and beat with its trans- 
parent wings. That was a living passenger whom they had 
on board, and at this the children jumped for joy and clapped 
their hands. 

Close beneath the island of Thuro lay a smack. The god- 
father rowed thither, put to, and had a deal to say to the peo- 
ple on board. Christian did not accompany him. 

The sea was calm ; the sun shone hotly. 

“ Thou must now, for once, go with me into the water,” said 
the godfather. “ To-day they forgot to forbid it us, thinking 
that this excursion was on land merely.” 

Christian smiled ; he would right willingly swim in the re- 
freshing waters, for at home he was only allowed to take off 
his stockings and go up to his knees in the water. 

“ This is another kind of bath to that which thou hast at 
home, when thou standest in thy mother’s wash-tub, and hast 
a stream of fresh water poured over thy head. Now, pull off 
thy clothes, my little lad ! ” 

Christian obeyed. The Norwegian himself stood there like 
an athlete. He raised the little fellow high up in the air, 
placed him on his shoulders, and made him bend his legs back 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


36 

underneath his arms. It was the image of St. Christopher 
with the child Jesus. 

A mighty splash resounded from the water, which closed 
above them, and played in large circles where they had 
vanished. In the next moment appeared the dark countenance 
of the godfather again above the water, his bright hair hung 
over his brow and cheeks, but Christian was not to be seen ; 
he had slipped away during the plunge. The godfather did 
not miss him an instant, before he again dived below, touched 
the bottom, seized the boy, and appeared once more on the 
watery mirror. Salt water streamed out of the little fellow’s 
mouth, and he began to cry. 

“ For shame ! ” said the godfather, appearing as though 
nothing had happened out of the usual course / but his pulse 
beat faster than usual. It was well that this adventure passed 
off in this way ; he little conjectured that a far greater one 
awaited them that evening. 

One of the most beautiful views on the island is seen from 
the church-tower at Breininge. Here in the inn one finds, as 
on the Brocken, and at other well frequented places, a book, 
in which the traveller writes his name, accompanied with a 
sentimental effusion in bad verse, or a piece of wit, which 
only amused the author. 

It was in the war time, and a telegraph had been placed on 
the tower, from which the black tablets whispered their dead, 
yet so significant language^ magically through the air. The 
sun yet stood above the horizon as the godfather and Chris- 
tian mounted up the tower to visit the new telegraph inspector. 

The straits, the islands, and the Belt, lay stretched out be- 
fore them like a map. Beyond Thuro arid Langeland, which 
shone above the waters like flower-beds, you perceived the 
coasts of Zealand. Many sails glided over the expanse of 
ocean \ in the irregular bay lay ships at anchor, and fishing- 
boats moved up and down. But these black tablets attracted 
the boy’s attention more than the natural beauties. He knew 
that they could speak the language of the deaf and dumb ; he 
had himself seen them sink down, rise again, and assume va- 
rious positions. 

The godfather sat at the covered table ; but Christian was 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


37 

deep in various games with the two active sons of the tele- 
graph inspector. They left the. room to play at hide-and-seek. 

Christian crept through an opening in the wall, by which 
you reached the two large bells. A great beam lay between 
the two bells, and you could walk over this to the sounding- 
hole, which was situated in a recess in the tower wall. The 
sun cast his long beams through the aperture, motes revolved 
round their axle. Through the sounding-hole one could cer- 
tainly see down below one ; that was another amusement, 
whilst the children sought for him. Therefore Christian 
danced along the beam between the bells, and could now over- 
look the whole island and the sea with its vessels. He soon 
heard the boys in search of him ascend the steps, and saw 
how they thrust their heads through the opening by which he 
had himself entered. 

“ Art thou there ? ” asked one of the boys. “ Here we dare 
not enter ; the bells might strike us dead.” 

Christian returned no answer. Should he let himself be 
frightened ? The bells hung as quiet and immovable as if 
they were walled up fast ; besides, they could not reach to 
where he stood. The boys who sought for him retired. 

The sun now set on the edge of the horizon, and appeared 
as if he would quickly hasten away. Christian could distinctly 
see how he sank ever lower, and at length quite disappeared. 
The evening twilight spread itself, and he looked toward the 
great bell which hung before the sounding-hole niche. Sud- 
denly it trembled, and made a slight movement. He now 
wished to go, but at that moment the bell raised itself higher, 
and turned to him the whole opening of its mouth. Terrified 
he shrunk back, and pressed against the wall. The first 
stroke of the bell sounded in Christian’s ears. 

It v/as here, as in all Danish village churches, the custom 
to ring at sunset, and no one had the slighest idea that a hu- 
man being was in the belfry. 

Instinctively he felt that, did he take a step nearer, the 
bell would crush his head. Yet louder, and even louder, re- 
sounded the strokes on the hollow metal. The quivering air 
and his terror powerfully worked upon the poor boy ; cold 
sweat started from all his pores ; he did not dare to turn 


ONLY A FIDDLER ! 


38 

round, his eyes stared into the hollow bell each time that it 
swung quivering above him. He called loudly for help, but 
no one could hear his cry of anguish ; he felt that his voice 
amidst the strokes of the bells echoed unheard. 

Overpowered to his very inmost soul by the most fearful an- . 
guish, the bell appeared to him the jaws of some immense ser- 
pent; the clapper was the poisonous tongue which it ex- 
tended toward him. Confused imaginations pressed upon 
him ; feelings similar to the anguish which he felt when the 
godfather had dived with him beneath the water took posses- 
sion of him ; but here it roared far stronger in his ears, and 
the changing colors before his eyes formed themselves into 
gray figures. The old pictures in the castle floated before 
him, but with threatening mien and gestures, and ever-chang- 
ing forms j now long and angular, again jelly-like, clear, and 
trembling, they clashed cymbals and beat drums, and then 
suddenly passed away into that fiery glow in which everything 
had appeared to him when, with Naomi, he looked through 
the window-panes. It burnt — that he felt plainly. He swam 
through a burning sea, and ever did the serpent exhibit to 
him its fearful jaws. An irresistible desire seized him to take 
hold on the clapper with both hands, when suddenly it became 
calm around him, but it still raged within his brain. He felt 
that all his clothes clung to him, and that his hands seemed 
fastened to the wall. Befere him hung the serpent’s head, 
dead and bowed ; the bell was silent. He closed his eyes 
and felt that he fell asleep. He had fainted. 

His first feeling of life resembled a dream, a bad dream. 
All was dark around him, and it must be so, for he lay in the 
serpent’s belly : the serpent had then swallowed him after all ; 
it was alive and not dead, for he could feel how it moved with 
him, pressed his limbs together, raised him up and again bent 
him down. That was a severe struggle. 

“ Put the church-door key into his mouth ! ” he heard said, 
but out of the far distance, and the sound vanished, and 
together with it his horrible dreams. He awoke, and felt 
himself quite weak. 

A strange woman and the godfather stood beside him ; he 
lay upon a bed. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


39 


He had been missed and found. Strong convulsive fits 
had been his sufferings, of which he knew nothing more. He 
was now come to himself again, his eyes only pained him still. 
He recollected clearly everything that had occurred. 

“ May God preserve his senses ! ” sighed the woman. 

“ A beating, a good beating, he ought to have ! ” said the 
godfather, “ for he has deserved it.” 

“ Yes, my lads have had their share, that I can assure 
you,” returned the woman, “ although they are not to blame 
for the misfortune.” 

Christian received a biscuit with honey, to strengthen him 
and revive his courage. The godfather raised him on his 
shoulders, and carried him down to the shore, for he must 
and really would return that night. The lights in Svendborg 
glittered clear over the water ; beneath the coast lay fishing- 
boats, with their bright fire for the eel-fishing : every breeze 
was hushed in the cool summer’s night. 


CHAPTER VIL 


“ Good-by ! I fly now far, far away, 
I set off this very day.” — Tieck. 


OMMON superstition affirms that the pollen of the 



V_^ barberry is a poison for grain ; the heavy ears become 
spotted by the biting sap. The noble poppy of the most 
dazzling white changes its hue, if it grow among colored ones. 
Environment is the invisible hand which is enabled to mould 
the material in its development. 

When the sculptor commences modeling the clay, we do 
not yet understand the work of art which he will create. 
Time and labor are necessary before the plaster-cast exists, 
and the chisel after the model animates the marble. How 
much more difficult is it, then, to discover in the child the 
worth and fate of the man ! We here see the poor boy in 
Svendborg ; the instinct within him, and the influence with- 
out, show, like the magnetic needle, only two opposite direc- 
tions. He must either become a distinguished artist or a 
miserable, confused being. The pollen of environment al- 
ready begins to work upon him. 

The god of music, already in the cradle, gave him the 
consecrating kiss. But whether the goddesses of the times 
will one day sing him inspiration or madness, who can say ? 
The division between both is often merely a thin partition. 
Will he some time, perhaps, excite the admiration of thou- 
sands, or in a miserable public-house, the violin under his 
arm, as an old man, act the fiddler to wild and rude youths, 
who mock him as a fool — he, whose soul received the unseen 
consecration of Music ? 

We know that the Duke of Reichstadt came lifeless into 
the world. In vain were all means tried to call him back to 
life ; then thundered the hundred cannon, he opened his eyes, 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


41 

his pulse beat. This was the son of the great Emperor, and 
on this account the whole world learned this circumstance of 
his birth. But no one knew that the son of poverty entered 
life under similar circumstances. He also was a born corpse, 
laid on a bed beneath the broken window-pane, when sud- 
denly flutes and violins resounded from the street, where were 
playing itinerant musicians. A melancholy girl’s voice was 
heard, and the little one opened his eyes and moved the al- 
ready cold hand. Was it their tones which recalled his soul 
to labor here upon earth ? or was it per chance this, Solomon’s 
sword of reasoning men ? 

A rare artist must he become, or a miserable bungler — a 
sparrow-hawk with yellow wings, which for this superiority is 
pecked to death by its companions. And if he should be- 
come such a being .? What comfort would it aflbrd him, what 
comfort to mankind, full of proud prejudice ? Like the snow- 
flake which falls into the running stream is he buried and 
forgotten, and only the works and names of a few elect pass 
over to the next century. Enviable fate ! But future joys 
may await him in the new state of existence, whilst the happi- 
ness of fame lies far distant, in a world into which he cannot 
enter, in which he can take no part. What does that matter ? 
Is it not all one how high we may be placed in life, if we are 
only firmly placed ? So sounds the consolation of the world ! 
This is the wavering self-consolation, with which the mighty 
wave of human life rolls on toward the coast of eternity ! 

The stem of the fir-tree forms knots which betray the age 
of the tree ; human life has also its perceptible rings. An 
important point of change, a kind of decisive moment in 
Christian’s life, was this summer, through his acquaintance 
with Naomi, the musical instruction, and the visit to Thor- 
seng. 

As the flower turns her chalice to the sun, so did his soul 
yearn after sweet tones. The organ attracted him toward the 
church ; the simple chanting was to him the “ Miserere ” of 
an Allegri. He envied the prisoners in the town-hall, who, 
on the king and queen’s birthdays, heard music over their 
prisons the whole night through, for then was a ball given in 
the town-house. Thus, as his nerves became more excitable 


42 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 


did his ears open more and more to the language of sweet 
tones. The convulsive fits which, since the unfortunate jour- 
ney to Thorseng, had never left him, often returned, and left 
behind a strange vibration in the eyelids, and a pricking pain 
in the eyes themselves, whilst at the same time all objects 
showed themselves in endless changing colors. His body 
languished, and his soul’s life was a mingling of fancies and 
of dreams. On such a mind his father’s constant yearning 
after travel, and his godfather’s eccentricities, produced the 
same effect as air and water upon the child born and brought 
up in the valley of the Cretins. School-life would have alone 
been able by its severe, rational discipline, to breathe a cool 
air into this sirocco of the imagination, which weakened his 
mind and body; but at this time there was no regulated 
school for poor children in the whole town. An honest old 
man, Mr. Sevel, and his deaf wife, were the only people who 
devoted themselves to teaching ; and to this end had taken 
up their abode in the old convent, which now, together with 
the ruins of the church, is pulled down. 

The monks, both in the north and south, knew how to 
build their cloisters in the most beautiful neighborhood . 
Close to the shore of the strait of Svendborg lay the convent 
of the Gray Brothers, with its beautiful prospect toward Thor- 
seng and Thuro ; the vaulted hall, which might, perhaps, once 
have served as a dining-hall, was now converted into the 
school-room ; in the little niche where once stood the crucifix 
had the rod and knitted stocking now taken their place. Be- 
neath the vaulted roof, on benches and foot-stools, sat the 
younger generation, with Dr. Martin Luther’s little catechism 
in their hands ; in which the picture of the Chinese with the 
long pipe, and of the Virgin Mary wdth the Child, were cer- 
tainly not very Lutheran, but nevertheless excited the most in- 
terest. The few narrow windows were placed tolerably high ; 
therefore it was no wonder that the children sprang upon 
benches and table to look out toward the green woods and the 
large ships, as soon as ever Mr. Sevel and his deaf wife left 
tliem for a moment. 

Close to this school-house lay the desolate old church, out 
of whicl: the epitaphs and altar had vanished, but upon the 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


43 

walls were still seen half-obliterated frescoes, richly surrounded 
with monkish inscriptions. In the aisles still lay the tomb- 
stones ; the windows were broken ; but grass grew long in the 
crevices of the walls, and the swallows built their nests where 
formerly the brazen lamps had hung. Still stood the Jesus 
hotninum salvator in iron letters over the church door, which 
was opened upon certain occasions. At such times, did the 
school youth chance to be near, they would stream into the 
church and raise their Vandal-like cry, which through the 
strong echo produced a peculiar effect. 

Upon Christian, on the contrary, the church produced quite 
another effect ; he became there quiet and introverted, although 
no place was dearer to him than this, for here he found food 
for his dreams, and was nearer to the legendary and spiritual 
world. He could gaze so long at the faded pictures, until at 
length the figures seemed to move their eyes ; he could sit so 
long upon the grave-stones, and spell out the inscriptions, un- 
til at length he heard the dead knock upon the tombstone, and 
in terror he ran away. When the grass swayed by the breeze 
quivered against the broken windows, or a terrified swallow 
flew about the vaulted roof, he thought of unseen ghosts, who 
played with the long grass, or chased the birds out of their 
sleeping-rooms. 

His body became sick ; the convulsions returned oftener. 
Medical advice they did not seek, for the people have no thor- 
ough faith in it ; and then it costs money ! Marie also thought 
that one might be made ill by the stuff the physicians pre- 
scribed j she knew a never-failing remedy for all internal com- 
plaints — a few drops of juniper taken in brandy: they dis- 
persed the complaint, and were strengthening. This medicine 
was administered to Christian. 

Time passed on, and the illness was no better. Therefore 
it would be advisable, said Marie, to speak with the wise 
woman at Quarndrup, if opportunity offered. This arrived, 
and all kinds of sympathetic remedies were tried. Christian’s 
arms and legs were measured with worsted threads, and he 
must carry on his heart consecrated earth and the heart of a 
mole : this was an infallible remedy. 

Thus passed weeks and months for nearly two years. The 


ONLY A FIDDLER t 


44 

wise woman counseled a visit to the Frorup well. Many a 
sick person, whom no physician had been able to cure, had 
there recovered his health. Marie placed as much confidence 
in the healing virtues of this miraculous well as she did in the 
words of her Bible. The superstition still exists among the 
people, that a miraculous sanative power is possessed by sev- 
eral springs in Denmark. The country people of Funen con- 
consider St. Regissa’s spring, which rises near the village of 
Frorup, as the most efficacious mineral well, and, as a so-called 
well-fair is held there, people stream thither in great crowds. 
From a circuit of many miles, nay, even from beyond Odense 
and Svendborg, the sick go there on St. John’s Eve, partly to 
drink the water of the spring, partly to bathe themselves in it, 
and to spend the night in the open air. Three successive 
years must the sick person visit the well ; if he is not healed 
within that time, nothing in the world can cure him, say the 
people. 

“Only journey to the well!” had said the oracle — “only 
journey to the well, and you will perceive a change ! ” 

There lay in these words an unconscious prophecy ; for there 
awaited not only the boy, but the whole family, a great change 
owing to this journey: or, at least, it was by means of this 
journey more speedily brought about. How often afterward 
did Marie say, “ Yes ; had not we then travelled to the well, 
perhaps now everything would have been quite otherwise! 
Perhaps ? yet we have had our free will to act with.” 

Marie considered it her duty to visit the well with the boy ; 
she would otherwise have much to account for to God did she 
neglect it. Her husband had no such strong faith in this 
wonder-working spring, but he willingly embraced every op- 
portunity of getting into the fresh air, and therefore made no 
opposition. . His friend, the sergeant, had just come to the 
town to pay a visit there, for the regiment in which he served 
was lying in Odense. 

The spring of St. Regissa lay several miles from Svendborg; 
the high-road, however, passed it, and thus the mother and 
boy could travel in some carriage returning from Svendborg 
to the fortress of Nyborg on the Great Belt. The two friends 
however, wandered on foot ; they would not be bound by any- 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


45 

thing, in order that they might choose their way through woods 
and valleys. A painter can certainly give us the coloring of a 
beautiful spring day ; yes, he can make us feel the warm air, 
but he is unable to create the aromatic beauty which operates 
equally agreeably on our well-being, with the form and color 
of objects. The host of little birds sang, and the tailor joined 
in, singing, as in foreign countries : — 

“Travel on foot through the land, 

Then a kind greeting thou wilt understand. 

Travel on foot ! ” 

Thus he j odel led and was soon again deep in the relation of 
his wandering life beyond the Danube and Po. 

“ Ah, see ! there flies a stork ! Ah, my poor stork never re- 
turned again ! Has he, perhaps, died from sorrow for the loss 
of his wife and young ones ? or is he, perhaps, still on his 
travels in order that he may forget them ? God forgive me ! 
but I really believe one may forget every loss on a journey.” 

“ That I also believe,” said the sergeant. “ Therefore — 
yes, I have never been able rightly to express my opinion 
before your wdfe ; she might have formed a bad opinion of me 
— you should take the thousand dollars ; for so much gives 
many a peasant’s son, nowadays, to remain at home. Some 
one must take his place. With that money Marie and the boy 
might live free from care, thou wouldst become an under-officer, 
and wouldst travel again abroad ; and this is that for which 
thou alone seemest to live. These are unsettled times ; no 
soldier knows whither he may go ; France lies as near to us 
as Germany.” 

The tailor shook his head. “ That Marie would never foi- 
give me,” said he ; and, somewhat affected, added, “ I believe, 
also, that without her I could not live. No, no ! do not let us 
speak more of this.” 

Quickly they now directed their steps toward the estate of 
Broholm. The leaves of the wood were transparent, the violets 
grew in complete clusters, the wood-flowers bloomed in all 
colors ; and between the trees they saw far over the Great Belt, 
and the shores of the Island of Langeland, which rose, with 
its forests and windmills, high above the sea. 

Do we read Prince Puckler-Muskau’s “Briefe eines Verstor- 


ONL Y A FIDDLER ! 


46 

benen,” the lovely country-seats of England present themselves 
before our eyes ; we see distinctly the avenue of large old trees 
which leads to the court. Such an avenue leads to the house 
of Broholm. Wilhelm Muller’s songs are complete little 
pictures ; the mill-wheels whirl round before our eyes, and the 
water dashes over the great wheel. Such a mill is close by 
this avenue of which we have spoken, but so deep, that “ the 
miller’s beautiful wife ” must lean back her sweet little head to 
see those who pass on the road. From our popular Danish 
legends float in our memory calm lakes, in the midst of which 
once stood an island with its castle ; but island and castle 
vanished, and now the swan swims over the towers. Such a 
lake borders the avenue and the mill, and the island lies still 
in it, with its old castle ; the large round tower, with its copper 
pinnacles and high spire, reflects itself in the waters of the 
lake : that is the country seat of Broholm. Still are the castle 
walls provided with loop-holes, and there still flows fresh, 
clean water in the castle-moat. 

In the vaulted servants’-hall, the roof of which rests upon 
strong pillars, sat our two travellers at the long table, upon 
which might be read the names of all the servants. There sat 
a third stranger at the table, a young peasant from Orebak, 
the brother of Marie’s first wooer. 

The exterior of the castle is unchanged even at the present 
day. The huge pair of antlers decorate the huntsman’s door, 
and the entrance to the apartments of the family is through 
the high tower — there where the winding staircase, formed 
of huge beams laid over each other, leads to the battlements. 
Along the garden-wall still grow, in the inner court of the cas- 
tle, the long rows of blooming linden-trees. 

Every emblem of a former age reminded the tailor of sim- 
ilar things which he had seen during his wanderings in Ger- 
many, and he drew comparisons each time. Such splendid 
lindens as these he had only seen in Bohemia, in the long 
shady avenues where he had sung to his Krasna holga} The 
old castle itself, with its high towers, he fancied he had seen 
far away on the Danube, as the boat glided merrily past, over 
abyss and whirlpool. Yes, the cool vault in which he now sat 
' His beautiful girl. 


ONL Y A FIDDLER ! 


47 

drinking, between the two thick pillars, reminded him of the 
convent cloisters. And of what the heart is full will the 
mouth speak, let it please other people or not. 

“ Then travel again ! ” interrupted, at length, his drinking 
companions. 

“ I must now put on the red coat,” said the young peasant ; 
‘‘in four weeks I must enter: but I have been counseled, 
and am also inclined to take a representative. I would count 
you a thousand dollars in bills, down on the table, if you 
would like to serve in my stead.” 

A thousand dollars in bills ! What a perfume lay in these 
white leaves ! a perfume which was able to fill the heart with 
dreams of riches. The poor tailor looked up and saw the 
green tops of the linden-trees through the high window. Were 
they these green leaves or those white ones which most 
strongly influenced his heart. 

Without the castle court stands the trunk of an old oak. 
At that time the entire tree was yet preserved, and a large 
iron cross, a memory of Catholic times, was fastened on the 
trunk. When the Spaniards lay in Funen, in the year 1808, 
this tree was to them a way-side crucifix, an altar under the 
free heaven, before which they knelt down and worshipped. 
Those figures burnt by the hot sun lay here among the fresh 
green, and riveted their dark eyes, full of confidence, upon 
the holy sign ; the priest stood there, and the psalm resounded 
in the foreign melodious tongue. Now the old oak was no 
longer what it had been ; the lightning had destroyed its 
vigor, and there arose only one single green branch from the 
scorched trunk. The road was to be improved, and therefore 
the old tree must away. Already had the axe penetrated 
deep ; a long rope was attached to the trunk, and at a proper 
distance horses were fastened to it. The tree must soon fall. 

The tailor and his travelling companions stood on the road 
as the whip was cracked, and the horses with all their power 
pulled away for the first time. The old stem trembled, but 
yet stood firm. There was another attempt, and it sank with 
a cracking sound to the earth, twisted itself in falling, and 
turned the iron cross toward the sky ; thus lay there the 
proud corpse with its order on its breast. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


48 

The sergeant made a similar observation. But the tailor, 
absorbed in thought, looked upon the ground ; that upon 
which he meditated became ever clearer and clearer to him. 
“ To meet with death upon the field of honor is, after all, the 
best lot ! and then one may escape with life. O, if only Ma- 
rie would think so ! ” 

“ How ! ” asked the sergeant, “ will you not then try your 
luck ? Life in the open air is quite a different thing to eter- 
nally sitting upon a table. This morning you saw the first 
•stork ; he flew, that means that you also will fly away.” 

The tailor was silent. 

Straight across the road lay the old oak, in the wide-spread- 
ing crown of which the stork hundreds of years ago, had rat- 
tled with his bill his good tidings of hot summer days. The 
old castle reflected itself in the water. Appearance and real- 
ity formed a beautiful whole. The locality and the surround- 
ing objects worked together upon the soul of the dreamer, like 
the musical wand of the natural philosopher upon the glass 
tablets j significant musical figures arose. 

Stalactites, the wings of the butterfly, and the flying clouds, 
have all their strange natural hieroglyphics, which man knows 
not how to explain, although they announce the strength of a 
world understood only in its development. The heart of man 
sometimes exhibits similar ciphers, which it is itself unable to 
comprehend. The unseen director of fate writes there his 
mene^ mene, tekel, upharsin, and a necessity awakes ; an inex- 
plicable “ I must,” is the next effect. 

“ Have you never,” asked the dreamer, “ heard of the 
Venus Mountain ? it is spoken of in old histories. Many a 
stately knight, nay, even the poor wandering journeyman, with 
his knapsack on his back, have entered this enchanted king- 
dom, and seldom returned. But did it ever chance that one of 
these returned to his friends, he was never quite himself again ; 
he suffered from a longing, and must either away or die. Now 
to my mind this is a little story, which one can easily imag- 
ine was invented by some one who had wandered about a 
deal in the world, and was then obliged to leave all the splen- 
dors of foreign lands to embitter his life far away in his home. 
During the five years that I was on my wanderings, yes I also 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


49 

saw the Venus Mountain; for what else but the splendor of 
the world is meant by it? Now I am again at home, and 
therefore I suffer an eternal restlessness ; longing is my daily 
work, a love of travel my pillow, and would Marie — ! But 
she must be willing ! ” And at these words his eyes sparkled, 
and he seized the sergeant’s hand, saying, “ I will be a sol- 
dier.” 


4 


CHAPTER VIII. 


** A holy spring where pious men 
From all the country gather. 

... .1 saw them drink : was it the gleam 
Of sunny light, or e’en the water’s might. 
That flushed again their pallid cheeks ? ” 


Oehlenschlager. 


FEW miles from the town of Nyborg, between the vil- 



lage of Orebak and Frorup, lies the well of St. Regissa, 
which, according to tradition, receives its name from a very 
God-fearing woman, who was severely persecuted by wicked 
men — so wicked that they even killed the children of this 
pious lady. On the spot where this occurred there immedi- 
ately sprang forth a fountain. When the lady Regissa had 
been long dead, there came many pious pilgrims hither from 
a far distance to drink the water of this well, and, in memory 
of the good lady, they erected a chapel over the spring, and 
hung her picture within it. Every year, on the eve of the fes- 
tival of St. Boel, mass was celebrated ; but when Luther’s 
doctrine was introduced, the chapel was allowed to fall into 
decay. The spring, however, bubbles still, and is every year, 
at midsummer, very industriously visited, and a yearly fair 


held. 


Doubtless it was the desire of withdrawing from the gaze 
of the multitude which gave rise to the custom of spending 
the night of St. John’s Eve at the spring. At sunset the 
sick people wash themselves with the spring-water, and then 
prepare for their couch. Next morning they again break up, 
the weaker ones return home, the strong remain to enjoy the 
pleasures of the fair. 

In the village of Frorup, where the well-market is held, peo- 
ple were busy erecting booths and tents. On all by-roads you 
saw people riding and walking with their sick : some were al- 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


51 

ready walking in the meadow, through which, among hazel- 
bushes and alders, the stream flows. High and single trees 
shaded them, and the people still, according to the Catholic 
custom, hang their offering garlands, which consist of a few 
tapers, on the stems of these trees. The green hedges of this 
meadow serve the sick people as a kind of screen, whilst un- 
dressing and bathing ; their old clothes they leave hanging on 
the hedges, where the poor beg them for their own use. 

Marie came alone with Christian ; she carried with her an 
old coverlet, to protect the boy from the cold at night ; she 
had brought an old coat of her husband’s, to answer the same 
purpose for herself. 

“ I will remain with thee,” said she. “ If I can sleep, it is 
well ; if not, neither will it be the first time that I have 
watched beside thee. Yes, child, thou dost not know all I 
have endured on (hy account. The cares and toils of a mother, 
children only learn when they, in their turn become parents. 
How much anxiety did I endure whilst I bore thee beneath 
my heart ! I have risked my life for thee. Long nights have 
I, carrying thee in my arms, walked up and down the floor, 
and listened to thy breathing ; worked throughout the day, 
watched throughout the night : that was a lot indeed ! Every- 
thing which I possibly could do have I done for thee, and 
will also do in future, my child, if thou canst only become 
healthy. I have only thee ; thou art my only child. Let thy 
father travel, in God’s name, if he cannot stay.” She burst 
into a flood of tears, but soon recovered herself again, kissed 
her son on his eyes and mouth, and approached the spring. 

Many thoughts passed through her soul. In Orebak she 
had met her husband in company with the sergeant and the 
young peasant. She entered the farm of her first wooer, who 
joked with her, saying, “All this might have been thine.” The 
strong ale, the mead, and the beautiful home-made bread were 
tasted, and she was informed, at first in joke, and then in ear- 
nest, of her husband’s desire to enlist into the army instead of 
the young peasant. 

“ Only see,” said the sergeant, “ he need not travel away on 
that account. He only has his number in the company.” 
And he often introduced the thousand dollars in his discourse. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


52 

“ He has his own free will,” answered Marie ; “ I do not 
detain him,” was her last word ; but at the same time it was 
as if her heart would break. She would not stay, the evening 
meal was sufficient for her ; she said she did not require sup- 
per. Her husband and the sergeant, however, remained, and 
passed the night with the brother of the young soldier. 

She now stood beside the spring. Here and there people 
had commenced bathing, others were busied in preparing a 
lodging for the night ; the best consisted in a bedstead which 
had been brought from a neighboring farm, and was placed 
beneath a hazel-bush ; the others were either made of straw, 
or people had chosen their couches in a wagon. The fire 
blazed behind the low turf wall, where boiled the coffee-kettle, 
and where some older women warmed their hands. 

The whole presented one of those scenes which are vanish- 
ing more and more out of our peasants’ life, and which at the 
same time carry us back many centuries. Could a dead man, 
over whose grave the psalms of monks resounded in Catholic 
Denmark, rise out of his grave and float over the meadow, he 
must have believed that everything remained in the same state 
in old Denmark as at the time when he closed his eyes. The 
people pressed, still with the same pious superstition in their 
hearts, around the holy spring ; the church-bells rang at sun- 
set as formerly, when they called to Ave Maria ; and even in 
the village church still smiled the picture of the Mother of 
God, with little Jesus in her lap. The nearest country-kouse, 
old Orebakkelunde, stood also still unchanged, with its irreg- 
ular gables and the high tower — that perfect Gothic building ! 

Not far from the spot where Christian was bathed with the 
cold, refreshing spring-water, stood two women with a young 
girl, who might be about thirteen years old. There was no 
bodily ailment to be remarked in the child, and she showed no 
signs of an internal raalad3\ Her countenance bore the im- 
press of perfect health ; her figure was almost entirely devel- 
oped, her long hair hung down over her round white shoulders, 
and the red evening sun illuminated a smiling joyous counte- 
nance. The younger of the two women was the girl’s mother ; 
she poured a cup of water over her daughter’s head ; the drops 
glittered on her back and shoulders ; she divided her rich hair, 
and sang with a clear voice : — 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


53 


“ Hear Him, see Him looking down, 

On His brows the thorny crown. 

Sing the praise of roses ! ” 

The elder woman — she was the sick girl’s grandmother — 
fell upon her knees, and with folded hands prayed the Lord’s 
Prayer. 

The evening was unusually mild, but dark clouds rose over 
the Belt. 

No circumstances of life are more likely to cause an inti- 
macy between people than mutual misfortune and a similarity 
of condition. Therefore Marie was soon in the midst of a dis- 
course with this family. They spoke of their sick children, 
and of the virtue of the spring. It would heal no epilepsy,” 
said the grandmother ; but, added she immediately, “ if God 
would assist them. He could easily make it possible. There 
is only one means,” said she, then, “ which never fails, ” and 
she named that universal remedy among the people, which the 
younger generation may, perhaps, believe originated in the 
brain of a Eugene Sue, but which, nevertheless, was practiced 
in Denmark not so long ago. We mean the revolting remedy 
of conducting epileptic patients to the place of execution, in 
order to gain permission from the criminal to drink of his warm 
blood when his head should be struck off the trunk. 

Marie shuddered at these words. No ! that, indeed, should 
never happen to her boy. 

The^lodgings for the night were soon arranged. The young 
girl and her grandmother were to sleep in the cart ; the small 
space which still remained over was offered Christian. The 
mother of the sick girl and Marie seated themselves on a bun- 
I ble of straw, threw their dresses over their heads, and leaned 
against the cart. 

I Silence now reigned around ; you heard the flowing of the 
! spring, and the heavy breathing of the sleepers. Christian 
‘ prayed his evening prayer, as his mother had taught him, and 
closed his eyes to sleep ; but, someway, this was not so easy. 
With a kind of terror he thought of the young girl with her 
deranged mind ; his feet touched hers ; she slept calmly and 
deeply. He looked toward heaven ; high up in the deep blue, 
glittered innumerable stars j Charles’s-wain stretched above 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


54 

his head. Soon he found himself in the mingled conditions of 
sleeping and waking. He dreamed, and yet he was aware that 
a dream-picture occupied him. He knew right well where he 
was, for he heard the splash of the spring ; but when he opened 
his eyes all had a strange resemblance with the Jew’s garden, 
where he had played with Naomi, — only here was everything 
greater. The air became clearer ; he fancied he heard Naomi’s 
voice j certainly, she called to him ! — she named his name : 
but he did not dare to answer, for the insane girl who slept at 
his feet might awake. Surrounding objects now assumed a 
milder aspect. He recognized the stork which stood there, 
clapping her bill and feeding her young ones. It was Naomi 
who sat beside him ; he gazed into her large black eyes, she 
showered beautiful flowers over him, and called them money. 
They played so splendidly with each other, and he again gave 
her, as at the first time, his mouth and his eyes as a pledge ; 
she really took them, and he felt the pain. All around him 
was gloomy night ; but he heard her carriage roll away. Fare- 
well ! farewell ! cried she to him : and the carriage vanished 
in the air. He rose, and although the empty sockets and 
bleeding lips burnt, was she his sole thought. He felt himself 
light as a feather, and wished to follow Naomi through the air : 
but that insane maiden had awoke, and held him fast ; she had 
flung her arms round his legs, and held him fast and ever faster 
as Naomi’s carriage rolled ever further away. Then did he 
gather his last strength together to free himself, and — awoke. 
He bad only been in a dream, which had busied his soul, — 
that he was quite aware of ; and yet he still heard the rolling 
of the carriage through the sky. Something lay heavy on his 
feet, therefore did he raise himself. There sat she, like a glit- 
tering nymph, with bare bosom and shoulders, shrouded in her 
luxuriant hair. But only one moment was she visible. The 
phosphoric light which surrounded her vanished; it became 
pitch-dark night, and in the distance rolled the thunder. 

“ It burns within me ! ” said she. “ It is as though my 
heart’s blood were leaving me, and I had only fire within me. 
Dost thou sleep, little boy ? ” 

Christian did not dare to answer. It was the crazy girl who 
knelt upon his feet. She had partly stripped off her clothes, 
and stretched her naked arms toward heaven. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


55 


“ Dost thou not hear how the bulls are bellowing ? ” again 
asked she. “ They chase each other like glowing daggers. 
If they stick these knives into thy breast, thou must die ; if 
they touch thy house, it stands in bright flames ; the strongest 
tree they split. Didst thou not see their horns ? They glance 
like copper and tin. Do not be afraid ! Soon they will be 
gone, and then only the little calves follow. They have little 
horns, which come forth from the black clouds in zigzag.” 

A bright flash of lightning, which was immediately followed 
by the thunder, awoke all the sleepers around. Terrified, 
started up the women. The old woman seized the half-naked 
girl, who stood in the middle of the cart. The storm-wind 
rushed through her locks, and raised the thin covering high in 
the air. 

“ O God ! ” was the universal cry ; and each one busied 
herself in covering her sick patient. Christian was laid under 
a horse-cloth, but the next gust of wind tore it away from him ; 
and it would, had not Marie prevented it, have flown far away. 
Trees and bushes shook like thin reeds ; leaves and broken 
branches flew about : and in the midst of the tumult of the 
storm was heard the young girl singing, the women praying. 

Suddenly there darted a fearful flash of lightning, whilst the 
thunder burst deafening above them. The very cart seemed 
to move, and Christian saw the whole country illuminated for 
one moment by the most dazzling light. Every bush, every 
tree, the church and the houses, in short all objects stepped 
distinctly forth ; and in the cart the young maiden arose, 
wrapped only in a thin garment. She spread out her hair 
with her hands, shrieked wildly, and sprang out of the cart. 
In the next moment the whole country lay again in black 
night. There reigned the silence of the grave. 

“ Where is Lucie ? ” cried at once the mother and grand- 
mother. “ My God ! where is she ? ” 

They felt about with their hands, but only struck against 
trees and bushes. 

The rain now poured down in torrents. The two women 
sent forth a cry of agony, which sounded above the thunder. 
The grandmother felt with her hands along the ground for the 
lost girl ; the mother flew through rain and wind, shouting the 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


56 

name of her unhappy daughter. Christian clung fast to his 
mother. It was a fearful night. 

Again a loud thunder-clap followed ; then the tempest 
abated. The successive peals were much weaker; and the 
rain now only fell in single drops. But the whole of this in- 
terval was full of the most terrible torture to the poor mother, 
who rushed over stock and stone in search of her child. One 
moment, by the brightness of the lightning, she believed she 
saw something white floating before her over the field : she 
ran on in that direction, but was soon stopped in her course 
by walls and ditches. She imagined that amidst the crash 
of the thunder and the howling of the storm she heard the 
voice of her unfortunate daughter ; which was, however, quite 
impossible, for the storm overpowered every sound, and, be- 
sides, forced her on with the wind, which then by its power 
carried her along like a shuttle-cock, so that sometimes she 
seemed to fly over the earth. At length she stopped short 
before an inclosure ; then, as if by instinct, mounted on the 
wall, to be the next moment by a whirlwind thrown over to 
the other side, into the long grass. The lightning illuminated 
the country for a moment, and she saw the old mansion of 
Orebakkelunde, with its tower, strong pillars, and Gothic ga- 
bles, lying before her. She was in the garden, where stand 
the old-fashioned clipped hedges and white statues. Was it 
one of these white statues which seemed to move itself in the 
lightning, or was it her daughter ? Her knees trembled ; full 
of anguish she cried, “ Lucie ! ” whilst the storm whirled the 
young green leaves, as well as the fallen yellow ones, into the 
air. 

Early the next morning Christian awoke from a deep sleep. 
His mother and the grandmother sat on the shafts, and lis- 
tened eagerly to the relation of Lucie’s mother. She was only 
just now returned ; and her joy was almost as great as had 
been her grief. “ Her daughter now slept a healthful sleep in 
the gardener’s cottage at Orebakkelunde,” said she. There, 
in the garden, had she found her daughter, cowering down be- 
side a statue, her head leaning on the pedestal. The tempest 
had caused people to be astir in the court. In the gardener’s 
dwelling burnt a light, and there the terrified mother received 


ONLY A FIDDLE/^! 


57 

assistance, there was Lucie laid in bed. “ Mother, I have 
no clothes on ! ” had been her only words, whilst she yet 
shook from the effect of a strong flash of lightning, which 
darted into the earth near her, and which had restored her to 
a kind of consciousness. Then she shed torrents of tears ; 
but at length her eyes closed, and she now slept a refreshing 
sleep. 

“ Perhaps the good God has taken compassion upon her,” 
said the old grandmother. “ She was healthy and strong, like 
other people, until once after a similar tempest she returned 
home from the fields, where the lightning had split a tree.” 
Whether she by this means had drawn upon herself this mis- 
fortune, whether before the outbreak of the storm she had slept 
and received a coup-de-soleil^ or whether evil powers had been 
busy and shown her things which were able to confound the 
understanding of a mortal, they knew not ; but her brain was 
sick, that was only too true. It was now the second year 
that she had travelled with her to the spring. God might 
clear her understanding, or take her rather to himself. 


CHAPTER IX. 

“Ah ! what joy to be a soldier ! ” — Scribe. 

I N the afternoon, everything at the spring assumed quite 
another appearance. On the green plot, where in the 
night the sick had sighed and prayed, now danced the healthy, 
whilst the fiddle and the clarionet played an old Anglaise. From 
the well itself drank youths and maidens to the health of love 
— of that love which the blood, and not the soul, knows. 

In the village there was the gay fair. Boots and earthen- 
ware, toys and puppets — everything was exhibited for sale. 
Christian had also received his fairing ; for in his hand he car- 
ried his old hat, and upon his head the new one, round which, 
with twine, was still fastened the newspaper sheet. He stood 
with his parents before a booth, where caps embroidered with 
spangles were offered cheap ; beautiful Nuremberg pictures, 
together with the Prussian soldiers and the Turk in his harem, 
were hung out. Marie said that this looked like a girls’ school. 
There stood a wandering Italian with his plaster casts, such 
ones as the people love here in the country — green parrots and 
a Napoleon. The tailor commenced directly, with both mouth 
and fingers, to speak Italian ; and Marie said to the sergeant 
she could hear that it was no German that her husband spoke 
with the cast-seller. The Italian laughed, nodded his head in 
a friendly manner, and talked away ; yes, he at last made Chris- 
tian a present of a parrot which had broken its foot. 

Close by fluttered silken ribbons and gay handkerchiefs, from 
a pole which was fastened to a table, behind which stood an 
acquaintance, who shouted his greeting to our family. It was 
old Joel, who had served Naomi’s grandfather, and who had 
conveyed his master’s consumed remains to the grave of his 
fathers. 

‘‘ It goes well with the daughter’s daughter,” said he ; “ lit- 
tle Naomi suffers no want. She is dressed in rich stuffs and 


59 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 

f 

muslins, wears golden rings on her fingers, and diamonds on 
her breast. She will some time become an incomparable beau> 
ty, like Queen Esther. ” 

“ Have you been lately at the seat ? ” asked Marie of him. 

“ No, there I do not come,” returned the old Israelite ; 
“ that is an agreement. I have not been there since the day on 
which my master became coal and ashes, when I informed them 
how forlorn the poor child was. I spoke then with the young 
Count and the old Countess, who can be as bitter as the mix- 
ture she drinks. But, nevertheless, I remain what I am ; and 
there are already ways for me without stepping upon her do- 
main. Naomi is well off! Ah, her poor mother I A more 
beautiful woman I never saw. Now the flower is become dust, 
and her white teeth are a poor ornament ! ” 

“ That handkerchief would be a pretty ornament for thee,” 
said the witty tailor, parodying the Jew’s words, and pointed to 
a handkerchief of blue cotton with red and yellow flowers. 
“ Tak,. it! for now we are rich.” And at the same time he 
clapped his pocket, in which were the five hundred rix-dollars 
and the contract with his captain for taking the place of the 
young soldier. 

Marie shook her head, sighed deeply, but her eyes, neverthe- 
less, turned toward the handkerchief : the colors were so bright, 
the pattern so uncommon. 

“ If I am the first person from whom you have received 
money to-day,” said the tailor, “ it will be well with your busi- 
ness, for I give lucky press-money ! Don’t be so sad, Marie ! 
God knows when we shall come again to the market, and 
whether we shall then have such beautiful sunshine, or so much 
money in our pockets ! ” He flung the pretty handkerchief 
round her, and she smiled through her tears, just as she after- 
wards smiled when at home her husband spread the notes out 
on the table, saying, See ! all this, and twice as much, is thy 
husband worth ! Now, don’t cry ! The salt tears will fall on 
the money, and then there will be neither luck nor a blessing 
in it. I am become a subaltern ; and that is the commence- 
ment to being an officer ! So near art thou to being a gracious 
lady!” 

“ In fourteen days thou wilt go to Odense to learn the exer- 


6o 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


cise ! ” said Marie. “ Only one month will it last, thou sayest, 
and then I shall have thee again ! Yes, God knows thou hast 
no rest in thee, thou canst not do otherwise ! Dost thou think 
I have never heard thee talking in thy sleep of foreign coun- 
tries ? Often in thy sleep thou hast wept like a child, and it 
has pained my very soul. The old calendar, in which whilst 
thou wast abroad thou didst write the day and the year when 
thou wast in certain places — this calendar, I tell thee, which 
thou hast so often brought forth to relate things out of to 
me, — Good God ! this day so many years ago I was there ! 
Then I was not sitting here on the table ! — this calendar 
seems to me a Cyprianus-book, from which thou dost read 
nothing good. Now thou canst write in it the day when thou 
didst leave thy wife and child. Did I not know better, I 
might be tempted to believe thou hadst given thy heart to 
some one else abroad, and that she robbed thee of thy peace. 
No one loves thee, after all, as well as I do ; and the lad is 
thine — that can I say with a good conscience.” 

“ Marie,” answered her husband, “ thou wilt not make me 
sad ! If I have done ill, complaint will now avail nothing. 
Let us rather contemplate the affair from the cheerful side. 
This evening the sergeant and the godfather are coming here ; 
ask the glover, and the old cooper also, to come over, and let 
us drink a bowl of punch as on our wedding-day ! ” 

Never before had Christian seen such a large company as- 
sembled in the little room : there were nine of them. The 
godfather had brought his fiddle with him, and played all 
kinds of merry things, told little stories of the stammering 
woman, and the whirling man, and knew so naturally how to 
imitate all on his fiddle, that his accomplishments increased 
the gayety of all the guests. They laughed and sang, and the 
evening passed in merriment. 

The following day was all the more melancholy ; but the 
most melancholy one was when the father must depart for 
Odense. Marie and Christian accompanied him as far as 
Quarndrup ; and when the wagon drove away the two stood 
in the high church-yard, so as to look after the wagon as 
long as possible, for the father still ever waved greetings to 
them with his hat. But the road now made a turn ; and they 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


6l 


could see him no longer. Then Marie leaned her head 
against the church wall and wept bitterly. Then she wan- 
dered for some time silent among the graves, arranged the 
withered garlands, and weeded the grass from the latest 
grave. 

“ If one only rested as quietly as this one here ! ” said she. 
“ How difficult is the way through life until we come so far ! ” 

Around the church stands, on the high church-yard, a cir- 
cle of old trees ; on each of these had the clergyman of the 
place caused small boards, bearing edifying mottoes and in- 
scriptions, to be nailed. 

“ These are no printing letters,” said Marie, “ or else I 
could read them. Canst thou read them, my child ? ” asked 
she of Christian. 

And Christian read to her the pious words ; each tree with 
its little tablet seemed to her to contain a Sermon on the 
Mount of consolation. 

“ The good God in heaven can bring about all for the best,” 
said she. “ Could I only cast a glance into the future ! ” 

Then she went into the village, to one of the last houses, 
where the oven, like a dome, stood out into the street. The 
horseshoe on the threshold, and the half fire-steel on the win- 
dow-frame, showed plainly that evil spirits were not very wel- 
come here. It was the house of the wise woman. 

The coffee-kettle was immediately put on the fire, and the 
seeress read in Marie’s cup hope and despair, but yet Hope 
had the preponderance : Hope, she who lines with velvet the 
fetters of the slave ! — she, who writes mercy on the sword of 
the executioner ! — she, whose tongue sings such sweet, false 
songs ! Marie might hope ! 

From every letter which the father now sent her, fell into 
Marie’s heart drops of the balm of consolation. The time 
passed away. 

“ Next week he will come back,” said she to her friends and 
neighbors ; “ to-day there are only six days till his arrival,” 
said she. And when the sixth day had passed, he really 
came. That was a joy, a surprise ! But poor Christian lay 
in bed, the spring had not yet cured his complaint. Yet his 
father was returned, and, therefore, did Marie rejoice. But 


62 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


the joy was only short ; it turned to sorrow, and the sorrow 
ended in tears. Only this night might he remain with her ; 
only as a special favor had this furlough of eight and-forty 
hours been granted him. The regiment was to break up ; 
the march was toward Holstein, where they were to take 
their stand with the French, whilst the allied northern army 
and its assistant Swedish troops threatened the frontiers. 

“ Be not cast down, Marie ! I will do thee honor ; and when 
we get booty, I will think of thee : we may become rich ! But 
do not weep ! It has happened thus ! We will have a merry 
evening ; I will now lie down and sleep for a few hours, and 
then I must away again for Odense. I am not at all wearied 
from my march ! It is real sorrow to see thee in tears, and 
poor Christian ill and suffering. Must my last evening re- 
main so sad in my recollection ? ” 

“No!” said Marie, “that shall not be ! ”and she pressed 
back her last tears with her dark eyelashes. The table was 
spread, the godfather came, and praised the soldier’s life, 
“ It was not impossible,” said he, “but that he might also go 
with them ; perhaps he should even be among them before 
they expected it.” The poor boy lay suffering in his bed ; 
he had just fallen asleep when his father’s kiss awoke him in 
the early morning. Their eyes met ; a hot tear fell upon 
Christian’s lips, and the father hastened out of the door. Ma- 
rie followed him. The whole day she sat speechless. 

“ Thou hast lost thy father 1 ” That was all she said. 

A Danish corps of auxiliaries consisting of 10,000 men, 
was to unite itself with the French army under the command 
of Marshal Davoust. Toward Holstein and Mecklenburg 
was their march. Forward ! The drums beat, and the host 
commenced its route ; but faster flew the birds-of-passage over 
them, singing that the hot summer days of the north would 
be followed by a long winter night. 

“There fly the storks!” cried the tailor. “This time I 
journey with you ! ” continued he, and gazed after the flight 
of storks until they vanished from his eyes like a swarm of 
gnats. 

The enemy’s troops lay on the Danish frontiers. The son 
of the Steppes, the Asiatic from the morasses of the Don, 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


63 

careered wildly along in his flying kaftan, with leveled lance, 
over the corn ; the God of War — the age called him Napo- 
leon — combated alone against the knights of all lands. 
There was a great tournament ; it was the last chivalric game 
which he played, and, therefore, he fought alone. Little 
Denmark was his esquire — a true, enthusiastic heart ; but 
his strength was not equal to his will. 

Days and weeks passed on in uncertainty and expectation 
here in Denmark : several honorable battles were fought in 
the Mecklenburg territory. At other places in Germany the 
French suffered defeats, and Davoust, the marshal and prince, 
must retreat before Bernadotte, the former marshal and 
prince, the then crown-prince of Sweden, and leader of the 
North German army. Unceasing marches to and fro, outpost 
skirmishes, and uncertainty regarding the destination of the 
morrow, belonged to the order of the day. The Danish corps 
of auxiliaries was commanded by Prince Frederick of Hesse, 
and was divided into three brigades. One was stationed in 
Liibeck, under the French General Lallemand ; the other two 
returned to Oldesloe, whilst a portion of the northern army 
and of the Swedish auxiliaries pursued the Danish corps. 

Where was Christian’s father, whom yearning after the Ve- 
nus Mountain had enticed from his quiet home? Hast thou 
seen the columns move across the plain? Didst thou see 
them where the signal is death ? Like an enormous crocodile 
they draw out their long body, — a bright mingling of uniforms 
and bayonets ! The roar of the cannon is the gigantic creat- 
ure’s voice, the smoke his poisonous breath. Thou dost not 
see the single scales which the monstrous body loses in the 
combat, and yet is each a human life. Only where the whole 
immense body is shivered is the death-blow perceptible ; and, 
like the cut worm, the different parts struggle in convulsive 
flight over the field of battle. 

There came for Marie a large sealed letter ; closely written 
was it, and cost a deal of postage. The contents were the 
following : — 

“ My dear Madame, — 

Do not grieve when you have learned the contents of 
this letter, although you may soon have reason to do so. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


64 

“ We lay in Liibeck. The General wished to spare the city, 
and therefore marched from thence over Segeberg toward 
Bornhoved. Now you must know the country between these 
places is an open heath. It had rained for many days. The 
roads were miserable, two steps forward and one backward ; 
that made one exert one’s strength. Close behind we had the 
Swedish cavalry upon our heels ; but it came to a few skir- 
mishes between the lighthorse of both armies. But Madame 
must not be grieved yet, for the melancholy news will cer- 
tainly not come before the last page of my letter. I might 
just as well tell it you immediately, but such things one always 
learns too soon. In the afternoon we approached Bornhoved ; 
the heath ceased, and the country was more broken up. We 
were thus better protected against the enemy’s cavalry. Now 
you must observe that the Prince of Hesse had garrisoned 
Bornhoved, and, with the two other Danish brigades, had 
marched out to receive us. The Polish lancers closed our 
troops. In order to keep back the enemy until the brigade 
had passed through, the Prince placed on the road, on this 
side the village, two cannon, and near to them a battalion of 
sharp-shooters. Among these was your husband, my friend, 
for my letter concerns him, as you may easily guess. But do 
not terrify yourself. To-day me, to-morrow thee ! Opposite 
to us marched the Swedish cavalry. Our battalions stood in 
divided columns on either side the way : one half were to form 
quarre ; but the enemy’s cavalry had already galloped past, 
and were attacking Bornhoved. The other half stood precisely 
opposite us. There arose disorder among our ranks ; and, 
had the enemy availed themselves of this, it would have been 
over with us : but the enemy did not. Dear Madame, this will 
be a long letter ; but you must know all the particulars ; and, 
therefore, I copy the greater part of my report from the gen- 
eral report, so that you may be able to rightly understand the 
circumstances. We again formed a battalion ; but a portion of 
the enemy’s cavalry had, as I have already told you, galloped 
on to Bornhoved ; the Polish lancers, who closed the brigade, 
lost their resolution, and pressed upon the Holstein cavalry ; 
and then again upon the troops posted behind them. The 
artillery at the head blocked up the road completely, and now 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


65 

arose terrible confusion. More than a hundred men were 
trampled down and massacred. The press prevented any 
fighting. The enemy was pressed against each other, man 
against man. Meanwhile the Danish infantry fired as well as 
it could ; the Swedes were obliged to give way, and, in retreat- 
ing, pass along the road where were posted our battalions. 
They scoured along the ramparts, clinging to their horses’ 
necks ; but more than two hundred of them were shot down 
as they galloped through the defile. The two cannon and 
their escort defended themselves courageously, and, to the last 
man, continued to employ their cartridges and arms ; but 
only one survived — the lieutenant. And thus, Madame, 
you are become a widow. 

“ This is my melancholy letter. 

“ Yours, in obedience and friendship, 

“ JORDSACH, 

“ Commanding Sergeant.” 


CHAPTER X. 


“ So must it be ! 

From Råbens tein I gaze with stony face, 

And nothing see.” 

Chamisso. 

D ead \ a world of sorrow lies in this one word. It is a 
two-edged sword, which, at the same time that it 
murders the beloved of our heart, penetrates so deeply into 
the bosom that everything around us becomes dark, even 
though the sun shine upon millions of happy beings. A single 
word, short as the other, is able to drop consolation into the 
sick heart and vouchsafe assistance ; it is — God ! 

“ Yes, I was prepared for it ! ” said Marie. 

But she was not prepared for this dreadful news. The dark, 
stormy change of autumn into winter made the mourner yet 
more desponding. The sky was gray, and rain and sleet fell 
in the dirty streets ; it was gloomy without, and gloomy within. 

“ Do not weep,” said Christian, “ or else thou also wilt die 
and leave me. Thou canst wash and iron, and I can play the 
fiddle and earn money by it. Thou shalt not be sad, mother.” 

“ Thou angel of God,” answered Marie, “ let me kiss thee ! 
Yes, for thee, on thy account, will I live : what would else be- 
come of thee ? ” 

Never had the festival of Christmas drawn near amidst such 
gloomy prospects. 

“ The farmer in Orebak is an honest fellow. He has sent 
me butter, and bread, and a goose for Christmas. Does he 
then really think of me ? Yet, no ; I will never again take 
that step. I will invite the godfather for Christmas Eve, al- 
though I can’t endure him. I will, however, do it on thy 
account ; perhaps he will think of thee when thou art grown 
bigger.” 

The table stood ready prepared ; Christian’s heart was full 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 67 

of joy for the Christmas feast. Marie brought her hymn- 
book. 

“ I can sing,” said she to the godfather ; “ you must keep 
the time.” 

“ I can sing no psalms,” replied the godfather. ‘‘ If we 
must use the hymn-book, let us try our fortune in it. There 
is something in it. What is destined for us is written in the 
Great Book, as well as in our blood and in our soul.” 

Marie opened the book. 

“ Marriage hymns ! ” said she ; “ that was really quite wrong. 
I shall never change my condition. Would that I were only 
so fortunate as to see Christian strong and well, so that he 
could get through the world ! ” 

“ That he will do, thanks to his good star ! ” remarked the 
godfather. “ We can certainly do something, but that is the 
least. Does it lie in him that he shall be a thief, or have an 
inclination for the girls, this instinct will not be repressed ; he 
may be brought up among the most honest people, they may 
instill the best principles into him, yet, if this evil is in him, it 
will break forth. We may certainly keep it back somewhat, 
but, when he has attained some years, it will break forth all 
the more strongly. The wild beast is in all men : in one it is 
a ravening wolf, in another a crawling serpent, which knows 
how to glide on its belly and lick dust. This beast is born 
within us ; the only thing is whether we or this wild beast 
possess the most power, and the power no one possesses of 
himself” 

“ God protect us from the power of the evil one ! ” said 
Marie, and looked upon the ground. 

It seemed to her that the spirit whom she feared sat with her 
at table. What she heard appeared to her like the form of the 
water-fairy ; at first, truth in its perfect brightness, then hollow 
emptiness, as a token of the world to which it belonged. 

“ I have read many writings,” pursued the godfather, “ have 
read of foreign nations. There are many nations on the earth. 
What we call sin, others consider right. The savage devours 
his enemy, and his priest says to him, ^ Man, thou wilt sit high 
in heaven.’ The Turk has many wives, and his bible promises 
him yet more in Paradise. A general wins fame and orders 


68 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


by the very same injustice, employed in a royal war, that would 
bring another man equally crafty to the scaffold. All depends 
upon custom and use, and who can assure us that we act the 
best when we are acting as the majority do ? Who knows 
whether the beast within us has not a greater right than the 
man who follows his school rules ? ” 

“ Ah, yes ! ” sighed Marie ; “ but it is not well to think of 
such things. With terror she laid aside the hymn-book, spread 
out the supper, and commenced another discourse. If my 
little Christian could only be well again ! I know a remedy ; 
many people have counseled me to try it, but it is too fright- 
ful : I mean, letting him drink warm blood.” 

Be silent ! ” cried the godfather ; “ I am so constituted 
that I cannot bear to see a fowl’s neck cut off. I know an 
innocent means : it is a sympathetic remedy, as people are ac- 
customed to say, which must be tried precisely upon such a 
holy evening as this : I speak some mysterious words, and the 
lad drinks ice-cold water out of the hollow of my hand.” 

“ Lord Jesus ! ” broke forth Marie, at the same time pushing 
back her chair. “ Have you been in the wars ? Have you 
slain a man ? ” 

A tawny yellow overspread the Norwegian’s countenance. 
“What do you say ? ” asked he, with a squinting glance. 

“ Ah, dear God ! I say nothing,” answered Marie. “ There 
are certainly many remedies which God or some one else can 
give us. But you said something then which reminded me of 
the sailor. He was a Swede, who lay against the bridge last 
summer. I spoke with him about Christian’s illness, and 
asked him what he thought might be done for it. I asked 
him whether one should not beg a pot and collect the blood 
of a malefactor at the place of execution, and then give it 
the boy to drink ? He told me that in Schonen they had the 
same belief, but, if the child were to be cured, it would suffice 
for him to drink cold water from the hand of any man who 
had shed human blood, for that was equally effective. I 
should therefore only take Christian to a soldier who had been 
in the wars, or to the executioner. These words, and what 
you have just said ” — 

“ Agree,” said the godfather. “ Yes, that is not false ! Yes, 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


69 

but what should you think if I were to give you a handful of 
flower-seeds, and you were to let the seeds lie until they were 
all dried up and had lost all their virtue, would not that be as 
much as if you had destroyed a whole plot of flowers ? There 
is in Norway the story of a girl who had a horror of becoming 
a mother, and therefore, the evening before her marriage, went 
to the water-mill where the witch dwelt, to ask for some rem- 
edy which should prevent this. The witch gave her twelve 
seeds, which she was to fling into the mill -pool. This she did 
without thinking anything more about it ; but at each seed 
which she flung into the water there was heard a slight sigh : 
it was a child’s heart which broke each time. She became a 
wife, but remained childless ; in old age remorse seized her. 
Her hand was unstained with blood, and yet she was a mur- 
deress, and endured agony of mind as an infanticide. One 
night as she went into the church to pray for the removal of 
her guilt she saw her twelve unborn sons standing before the 
altar, and their whole race, all their descendants, the number 
of which was so immense that they filled all the aisles of the 
church. And she knelt down and prayed ; she, the murder- 
ess of a whole race ! ^ And you, Marie, do you understand 
the meaning of this history ? Thus is many a mother the 
murderess of a whole human race. Such a murderer am I ! 
such a murderer shall I be ! for I cherish within me a horror 
of becoming the husband of any woman. Therefore let the 
boy drink out of my hand, for, if no blood is to be found upon 
it, blood in reality cleaves to it ! ” He held his breath, other- 
wise a low sigh which rose from his breast would have be- 
come loud. 

“Certainly you are ill,” said Marie, gazing at him anx- 
iously. 

1 The conclusion of the legend is as follows ; The clergyman broke 
forth in anger against the woman’s sin. “ I will not grant thee absolution, 
and God the Lord will be equally unforgiving. Sooner shall roses spring 
up out of the flagstones than I forgive thee ! ” The night that she had this 
vision in the church, the clergyman dreamed the same thing as the old 
woman, and when he awoke the flag-stones had split, and twelve odorous 
roses grew out of the apertures ; these were the twelve sons of the childless 
wife. “ Now is our mother happy ! ” said the clergyman, and sought for 
her in the church, where she lay dead before the altar. — Author's Note. 


70 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


‘‘ Never more will I invite thy godfather,” said she to her 
little son, when the Norwegian had left them ; “ I felt just as 
though an evil spirit had been with me in the room. Fold 
thy hands, Christian, and pray thy evening prayer. I will 
teach thee some more prayers, which I still remember, when 
we are alone at work together.” 

The new year had many ice-cold, gloomy days ; often the 
windows were obliged to be thawed by means of the foot- 
stove. 

“ Now the high-roads are like a floor ; the frost has done 
good,” said the farmer from Orebak, as he one day visited 
Marie. “ You must amuse yourself a little ! Pay me a visit, 
and bring your boy with you. I will expect you by the car- 
rier’s cart.” 

“ I would willingly grant Christian the pleasure,” said she. 
On his account it would be, should she ever commit the folly 
of marrying again. And yet, the grass of the new year had 
scarcely begun to spring before she already wavered between 
the yes and the 710. 

“ On thy account it shall be, my dear son ! ” said she. 
Christian wept ; the new father was not at all friendly and 
merry. He scolded at his playing on the violin, and called it 
wearisome fiddling. 

“ Marie, thou knowest that my thoughts have ever turned 
toward thee ! However, thou didst take another, and I did 
the same. Now are we both free again : I must have a wife 
for my housekeeping, and a mother for my lad. True, there 
sits the bird-catcher’s Anne, — that is a pretty girl. She has 
two children ; for each she receives ten dollars for ten years. 
That is really a capital which might make one wish for her ! 
Thou hast no fortune ; and thou hast the lad also ! But I 
like thee ; and if thou art as agreeable as I am, the pastor 
shall publish our bans next Sunday from the pulpit.” 

Marie gave him her hand. 

“ On thy account it happens, my child ! ” repeated she ; and 
the green meadows, the farm, and the cattle, danced before 
her soul, — before her soul, which had remained a whole year 
faithful in memory to a husband who valued foreign countries 
more than wife, child, or home- 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


71 

The more violently thy tears flow, the sooner will the spring 
of tears be exhausted. The widow’s hood becomes the bridal 
veil ; therefore the garland smiles on the bride’s brow as 
well as upon the cold forehead of the dead. Yes, even in the 
coffin it smiles, and tells the dead, with its gay colors, how 
soon the mourning over him and he himself will be forgotten, — 
forgotten like the history which is read with tears. This the 
laughing flowers relate to the dead corpse, until they them- 
selves fade and fall to dust ; and then the skeleton grins 
over the talkative flowers, because they are now become silent. 

“ So, then, there is an end to our playing ! ” said the god- 
father. “ I thought it would be otherwise ; but what can man 
think ? Now, thou shalt put thy hand to the plough, but no 
longer to the fiddle. Thou shalt wander a new way, or a by- 
way : one does not know which, beforehand. The old fiddle 
I have given thee j and the little music-book, with the dances, 
thou mayest keep. ‘ Reinecke Fuchs,’ the beautiful book with 
the pictures, which thou lovest so much, thou must also take 
with thee. Only keep it ! I think much of thee, and thou of 
me ; is not that true ? Do not cry, thou little soul ! Kiss me ! 
Yes, once again. Lay thy arm round my neck. Dost thou 
think thou canst always remember this which I now say to 
thee ? Be gay and wild in thy youth, so that thou mayest be- 
come satisfied when thou growest older. The sins of youth 
men pardon ; the man, however, they judge more severely. 
Seize on the joys of life whilst thou canst, so that when thou 
art an old man thou mayest not weep because thou hast no 
sins ; for they belong to life, as salt does to meat. Better is it 
to have enjoyed life too much, than later to sigh because one 
has not enjoyed it as one could. Write that in thy wandering- 
book ! God, or the devil, in whose soever regiment thou mayest 
enter thyself, be a good master to thee ! ” 

He gave Christian the violin and the books. 

That was his last visit in the Hollow Lane. 


CHAPTER XL 


Gone are these dreams.” 


Schiller’s Don Carlos, 


HE day before the wedding is a real torture for the 



1 peasant bride : she must be dressed — that is for the 
first, and, perhaps, for the last time in her life, appears with 
uncovered hair. Pier hair is washed with ley, by which means 
it becomes stiff and rough, and is, therefore, all the more 
difficult to arrange. The bride usually faints during the 
operation. But this did not happen to Marie. “Her hair 
was like silk ! ” said one of the attendants, with whom we will 
witness the procession to the church. That she, as a widow, 
wished to be adorned with her beautiful hair, and not with 
her cap, was an evidence of pride, said certain people. All 
the connections of the bridegroom had much to say against 
this union ; for Marie brought nothing into the house but a 


tall lad. 


The triumphal arch was erected on the road to the church, 
the gateways which the bridal pair had to pass through were 
adorned with green boughs ; and the brideman galloped 
backward and forward before the bridal pair. First came 
the bride, with her bride-maidens, who held their bouquets out 
of the wagon like marshals’ staves ; bells and little mirrors 
glittered among the flowers ; no one had ever seen more 
splendid ones. Trumpets and clarionets resounded into the 
very church, and overpowered the organ. The bride -maidens 
took much honor to themselves, — so beautifully they had dec- 
orated the church ! Everywhere hung green garlands, and 
“ what glitters,” as the peasant says. The king on horseback, 
in a paltry print ; a gay recipe with the mixture-phial, on which 
might still be read, “Juniper-drops for six shillings ; ” an old 
red silk muff, and many other valuable things, were suspended 
among the wreaths and green branches. Every peasant’s 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 73 

wedding in Denmark, if intended to be particularly splendid, 
shows us this childish love of ornaments. 

Among the female guests who sat in the foremost seats we 
recognize two : the mother and grandmother of the crazy girl, 
whom we saw at the spring. Lucie was also come with them. 
In her blue speaking eyes you no longer saw anything wild ; 
pious and still sat she, near the other female wedding-guests. 
Like the storm of that night had the struggle of her soul laid 
itself to rest. Christian, who had his place among the men, 
immediately knew her again ; she, on the contrary, looked at 
him with the glance of a stranger, and with a clear voice sang 
the holy song of praise. 

Now stepped the bridal pair before the altar. The attend- 
ants placed themselves in the choir. The two women spoke 
in a low voice to each other. 

“ Give heed to the bride and bridegroom ! The one who 
makes the first movement will die the first.” 

“ Ah, that she has done ! ” 

“ But that does not agree with the other,” said the younger 
woman. “I have more faith in that! — that never comes 
wrong. One can tell by the names of the bridal pair who will 
die first. One counts the letters of the two names together, 
and then says : Adam dies ! Eve dies ! which is as much as 
saying, He dies ! She dies I and where one ends there is 
death. But that also comes to her ! She is called Marie, and 
that has five letters when it is not written with two r’s ; and 
he is called Peter, and that has also five letters, and that 
makes ten together, which is an equal number ; and when 
there is an equal number. Eve dies.” 

“ Yes, but he is called Peer, and not Peter ! ” said the 
young woman. 

“ But how was he christened ? ” asked the other. “ If he 
is called Peer, he will die first ; but if he is called Peter, she 
will die before him, and that agrees with the movement she 
made.” 

They were here interrupted. There arose a little dispute 
in their neighborhood, which, quietly as it terminated, never- 
theless interrupted their devotion. The bridegroom’s son, 
Niels, a boy of twelve years old, with a flat, malicious counte- 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


74 

nance, pushed his half-brother, Christian, somewhat roughly 
aside, so as to press himself forward — an action which Chris- 
tian resented by a somewhat indignant motion. The women 
signified to them by signs that they must be quiet ; and Chris- 
tian cast down his eyes, and gazed in an embarrassed manner 
upon his white stockings. But Niels, at the same moment, set 
his dirty shoe upon Christian’s snow-white stocking, so that 
tears came into the poor lad’s eyes. Lucie cast a reproachful 
look on Niels. 

The marriage was concluded. Like the trumpets of the 
Last Day resounded the trumpets at the church door. The 
bridegroom now drove away in all haste, so as to receive his 
wife in the bridal house. The musicians stood on the thresh- 
old. The new-married pair had already arrived, and each 
guest laid upon the pewter plate, which stood before the 
pair, his bridal present, when it was also not forgotten to 
distribute tickets ; for the peasant makes a similar gift when 
the donor, or any member of his family, afterward celebrates 
a marriage. The meal was served, and devoured ; the song 
sang j and the stewards danced the bride into the bridegroom’s 
arms. 

Lucie, who was something older than Christian, devoted her- 
self alone to him. They danced and walked together. She 
was called the school-master’s pretty daughter. 

During the after-festivities they two sat in the garden, where 
the bouquet-pinks bloomed, and she told him about her great- 
uncle Peter Vieck, whom she was w'ont to call her mother’s 
brother, and who had that beautiful vessel called Lucie, like 
herself, which sailed to Germany and Copenhagen. O, this 
mother’s brother was so good, and full of fun ! Once every 
summer, when his vessel lay off* Svendborg, he visited her. 
He had made her a present of the “ Gentle Helene,” which, 
as the title ran, was “ amusing,” and yet at the same time 
“sorrowful” to read. Christian then brought his book of 
“ Reinecke Fuchs,” which his godfather had given him, and 
they looked at the numerous wood-cuts. Lucie read what was 
written over them, and she could very well understand how 
the fox made sport of the bear and the other beasts. 

Whilst they were sitting thus comfortably together, Niels 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


75 

came. He glided quietly behind them, and suddenly, with 
his foot, kicked the book out of their hands, so that it flew 
far amidst the gooseberry bushes. Christian began to cry ; 
but Lucie scolded, and said that Niels was like the fox in the 
book, a wicked beast. 

The lad stared at her with his unmeaning eyes. “ Crazy 
Lucie ! ” was his only reply. 

At this the girl’s rosy cheeks grew pale, the boy had caused 
her bitter pain by these words ; he had touched upon the un- 
happy derangement of her mind from which she had formerly 
suffered, but of which she was now cured. She looked at him 
with an expression of sorrow and then returned to the bridal 
house, where all was merriment and perfect joy. 

On the third day of festivity, one saw Christian and Lu- 
cie dancing together ; Niels stood with them in the chain. 
The sun does not set upon the anger of children. The stew- 
ards now dismissed the company with the customary chorus 
of, “ Here is, to-morrow, an end of joy.” 

For Christian there lay in these words a prophetic truth. 
During the first few weeks, it is true, the new home, the gar- 
den, and the fields, afforded him some change and pleasure, 
but in the home it was not as comfortable as in Svendborg. 
His step-father did not like to hear the fiddle, on which ac- 
count Marie hung it up high above the door, where it was not 
so easy to get it down. Niels looked down upon the town 
boy, who was afraid of the cattle, mistook a cow for an ox, and 
scarcely dared to ride the quiet mare to water. Scornfully he 
related all this to his father and the men, and their laughter 
wounded poor Christian. The only point on which the boys 
were at all unanimous was their love for the picture-book. 
The animals interested Niels, but he considered it a great 
mistake that they were only black and white. It was there- 
fore, out of no spite, but rather a well-intentioned thought of 
his, which prompted him, when Christian was away, to take 
the book, and, in the conviction that he was doing something 
very admirable, paint all the wood-cuts with the brightest yel- 
low and red colors. He was also considered by his father 
and the men as a good hand at drawing. Upon all the doors 
and gates were his figures of men and animals ; but what gave 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


76 

his father a relish for these sketches was the coarse spirit, the 
vulgarity which lay in them all. He gave, by a few strokes 
and additions, the same character to the wood-cuts ; he then 
laughed, quite self-satisfied at his inventive talent. 

“ Wilt thou look ? ” said he to Christian, when he entered ; 
“ one can now laugh properly ! ” 

“ Thou hast spoilt me the whole book ! ” said Christian ; 
and his vexation and his anger about it were so violent that 
he broke forth into a passion, which was not natural to his 
character. He threw himself upon Niels, but Niels in a 
second flung him to the ground. 

“ You shall both be beaten ! ” said Marie. “ I will do 
nothing to Niels, but thou art my own lad ; thee I have a 
right to flog ! ” And now he must suffer chastisement for 
both. 

The father also found that now the book was much prettier, 
and the vulgar improvements of the pictures called forth the 
joyful exclamation of, “ The lad’s devilish clever ! ” 

Abandoned to himself and his own thoughts, Christian 
wandered solitarily about ; from day to day he became more 
quiet and introverted. Sometimes he was still the object of 
his mother’s entire love, especially if anything went contrary 
to her wishes, and if the relations of her husband spoke ill of 
her because she had brought nothing into the house. At 
such times the fiddle might make its appearance ; he then 
played from the notes in his little book, which was a real 
treasure to him, — which he would not have given away for 
anything in the world. And yet he must soon lose even 
this treasure. 

One day there flew a splendid kite over the house. Niels 
had made it of old newspapers and the music-book, which 
was of no value in his eyes. The kite rose high into the air, 
the boys could no longer hold it, its speed increased, and it 
flew away into the deep peat-bog. 

The winter came and went. It was once more summer, 
and Christian must now do something to earn his bread. In 
the meadow, where the stream flowed on among the alders, 
must he and Niels alternately tend the geese : but he liked to 
be in this solitude. There, where the stream formed a small 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


77 

lake, would he sit on the trunk of an alder-tree, in the shade 
of the hazels, which mirrored themselves in the clear water, 
sunk in dreams and gazing at the picture of the flying clouds 
in the clear fountain. There below swam the clouds ; there 
below flew the bird with outspread wings, just as deep below 
as he flew high above the watery mirror. The trees stood on 
their heads and turned their roots up into the air ; his own 
figure seemed equally turned topsy-turvy ; and he now formed 
a complete idea of how it must be on the other side of the 
world. The bubbles which rose up here and there he called 
his water shooting-stars. The smooth expanse was to him an 
ocean ; the large water-insects which traversed it, corsairs. 
What voyages they did make ! In comparison with them the 
grass and water-plants appeared gigantic like the trees of 
tropical lands. The duck-meat formed green, floating islands ; 
and if a frog suddenly appeared swimming over the water, he 
thought of some monster such as he had heard of in the 
“Arabian Nights.” There where he sat the water flowed 
beneath the old tree-stems, the roots of which were partly laid 
bare. In these openings it seemed to him quite mysterious j 
no fishermen can form more terrible ideas, whilst sailing past 
the caves of Capri, than did Christian at the sight of these 
black holes between the tree-roots and the turf, which hung 
over the water without touching it. If he struck his stick in 
the water, he put the whole ocean in movement ; he saw the 
ocean’s long waves, its ebb and flood, which overflowed and 
extended the caves in the coast. What he had learned from 
the relations of his father and godfather, he thought other 
peasant-boys must also know ; and what he saw in the water 
and the green plants, they must also be able to see : therefore 
he spoke to them of these things as if they really existed. 
But the others understood nothing of all this ; they listened 
to him with admiration and curiosity ; they did not exactly 
know whether he were wiser than they or quite crazy. 

“ Yes, he is out of his senses ! ” cried Niels. These words 
were the signals to them to view these things in quite another 
light. They all fell upon Christian. One fastened a willow- 
branch behind to his neck-handkerchief ; others threw at him 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


78 

with burs ; and Niels whistled and cried, Hurrah ! here is 
crazy Christian ! ” 

Despair seized him ; and, like a frightened roe, he flew in 
wild career over the field. All the boys, screaming, followed 
behind, and threw at him with their caps and wooden shoes. 
He reached the garden and crept quickly over the wall, fol- 
lowed by the wicked boys. He cried out aloud. Marie stood 
in the garden; he flew to her. Niels and the other boys 
stood already on the garden-wall. 

“ What is up now ? ” said Marie. “ Canst thou not play in 
peace with them ? Wilt thou be quiet directly ? ” 

She went in. His companions laughed at him, and he must 
swallow their scorn. 

One day he again sat alone in the field, and out of all kinds 
of leaves and flowers formed the figures of men, which he then 
reared up against the tree-stem, and amused himself with his 
gay company. 

Whilst he was thus absorbed in his play, the wise woman 
from Quarndrup — she, his seeress and female physician — 
came to seek herbs and roots, and looked at his dolls. 

“ Ah ! what hast thou made there } ” said she to him. “ Those 
are human forms ! But thou hast not been able to give them 
a soul. What wilt thou say in thy justification at the day of 
judgment, when they shall accuse thee of merely having given 
them a body ? ” She shook her head and left him ; but her 
words, “ They will demand a soul from thee,” had sunk deep 
into his, imagination. 

The longer he looked at his dolls the more uneasy he be- 
came ; to tear them in two, he did not dare. He broke loose 
a piece of turf, made a hole in the earth, laid his dolls in it, and 
covered them over with the turf. Now they were buried ; but 
he dreamed the whole night of them, and it seemed that the 
little flower-men stepped before his bed, hopped up unto him, 
and said, Thou must give us a soul ! ” His dream seemed to 
him a real event, but he did not dare to speak of it. The next 
day he again went to the place where he had buried his dolls, 
and raised the sod. The flowers were now all faded, and had 
shrunk together. He took them up, spread them out, and 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


79 


then laid them, as well as he could, on a wild cabbage-leaf. He 
carried them down to the brook, prayed the Lord’s Prayer at 
the bier of his creations, and placed the leaf in the water, 
where the green death-ship flowed on with them. Now the 
forms could not again return and terrify him ! 


CHAPTER XII. 


Alrik. — “ Thou art here : what a pleasure ! 

Edmund. — Tell me of a sea great enough to wash away that guilt which 
oppresses me.” — The Rune-sword^ N icander. 

FTEN does a noble and gifted soul become an object for 



scorn and neglect, because its peculiarity and prepon- 
derating excellence is unacknowledged by surrounding persons. 
The ass treads down the most beautiful flower ; man the most 
faithful brother’s heart. 

Thou who dost glance thy eye over these pages, hast thou 
ever felt thyself thoroughly forlorn ? Dost thou know what it 
is to call no friend thy own ? to know no heart upon which 
thou canst lean ? to have no friend, no brother ? to stand soli- 
tary in the midst of a whole nation ? If so, thou knowest the 
germ which shot forth in Christian’s heart, knowest how the 
bitter odor makes older and ripens the understanding, whilst 
it bloodily engraves the runic character of its wisdom in our 
hearts. 

In the violin dwelt the only consolation of his childish imagi- 
nation ; but the violin made him a dreamer, said the step-father, 
and therefore it was sold for a few shillings to a Jewish peddler. 

“ Now we are freed of this annoyance ! ” said Marie. 

Silently the boy stole up to the loft, laid himself down among 
the hay, and wept until Sleep gave him her consoling kiss ; and 
he dreamed of former days when his father related of splendid 
countries abroad, and the godfather said the fiddle should be a 
rose in his hand and make his fortune. 

The reality was a denial of this and all successive dreams. 
The autumn approached ; it became uncomfortable in the open 
air as well as in the house. 

“ It is wretched with the lad ! ” said Marie. “ That he inher- 
its from his father; but no one shall say that I coddle him.” 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 8 1 

And to act the good step-mother, she was unfriendly toward 
her own child. 

“ Is it not horrible ! ” said the husband, one day on his return 
from Svendborg. “ The Norwegian in Hollow Lane, the same 
who used to visit thy first husband, is in prison. He has con- 
fessed to a horrible crime. Many years ago, he, in Norway, 
killed a girl j and in Svendborg he sent into the other world 
the Jew’s daughter, Sara, the mother of little Naomi, who has 
risen to such honor.” 

“ God have mercy ! ” exclaimed Marie. 

“Yes, there he sits, confined by wood and iron! It is 
quite singular how all this came out. He fell dangerously 
sick. The doctor said he would die ; and he believed so also 
himself, and wished to ease his conscience by confessing his 
sins. But, from that moment, a remarkable change took 
place in him ; his health returned again, and he removed from 
the sick-bed to the prison. Pardoned he will not be. It is as 
good as two murders which he has committed ; and he was a 
smuggler also ; that was the reason he so often went to Thor- 
seng.” 

“ Ah, yes ! ” sighed Marie. “ One could see that an evil 
spirit dwelt within him. I still shudder at his words of last 
Christmas Eve. His fiddle sounded like Cain’s voice. It was 
fearful to hear it.” She could not forget the news, she trem- 
bled all over. 

The evening table was spread. Niels came ; Christian was 
not to be found. The meal waited ; he was sought for, but 
he was not to be found. It was already after ten o’clock. 

“ He will come when he feels hunger 1 ” said the father. 

“ I am his mother ! ” answered Marie. “ I know best how 
near he is to my heart. I must find him, but I will teach him 
to leave off such tricks I ” 

He was not found. 

Soon after mid-day he had been sitting at his favorite place 
beside the spring. The falling leaves whirled over the mead- 
ow, the sunbeams were weak and cold. Therefore he was 
surprised when he saw a stork, a straggler, standing close 
beside him. Perhaps this had been a prisoner when his 
people had departed, had afterward escaped, and now was a 
6 


82 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


solitary pilgrim through the steppes of heaven toward tlie far 
south. 

He hopped around Christian, did not seem to be at all fear- 
ful, and looked at the boy with his sage eyes. Then thought 
the boy of the pair of storks which had built their nest on the 
Jew’s house ; this seemed to him to be the father-stork, and 
all the beloved memories of his youth pressed upon him. He 
recollected so perfectly everything his father had related of 
the strange birds ; he went nearer, but the stork flew a few 
steps further. “ If one could only sit under the stork’s wings 
and fly into foreign lands ! ” had his father so often said ; and 
yet never before had this yearning arisen so violently in the 
little one’s breast as at this moment. “ Could I only go to 
Svendborg to my godfather ! ” thought he, and wandered 
dreaming farther over fields and meadows. Then arose the 
stork in a proud flight, and winged his way over the wood, 
and Christian walked with a joyful and light heart — the first 
time for many a long day — on the high-road which led to 
Svendborg. 

Only when darkness came on and he felt hunger did his 
thoughts return to home ; and he was terrified at being so far 
from home and at having left the geese. It would be very 
late before he again reached his parents’ home, and what, in- 
deed, would they say to him ? He was silent ; “ The stork 
was to blame for all,” said he, and began to weep : for they 
would beat him did he return home ! “ Thou, good Jesus, be 

my friend ! ” prayed he with a pious mind, and wandered far- 
ther. 

It became ever darker and darker ; at length he could no 
longer see his hand before his eyes. Then crept he to the 
wall, laid his head against a willow-tree, prayed the Lord’s 
Prayer, and gave himself up to fate. 

It could scarely be more than nine o’clock ; and whilst he 
sat there it seemed to him as though there shone a light in 
the distance between the trees ; he heard music — pleasantly 
fell the tones upon his ear ; he listened with a devotion, as a 
glorified spirit will listen to the harmonies of heaven. Now 
the tones seemed to come from the tree-top, now from the 
clouds. Was it perhaps true which the legend tells, that 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


83 

swans sing, but from such a high distance that man upon the 
earth cannot hear them ? But here a human ear received the 
tones ! The clouds shone brighter ; all became clear. He 
glanced toward the increasing light, and now saw the moon, 
which with her pale light called forth bushes and single trees 
from the darkness. 

He found himself near the mansion of Glorup, and sat 
upon the inclosure of the old-fashioned garden. From the 
mansion resounded the music which he had heard ; from 
thence streamed the lights over to him. Irresistibly was he 
attracted by his discovery ; he let himself slide down, and 
now stood in the garden. 

Large trees with thickly grown together boughs formed an 
avenue ; a female figure of white marble stood chained to a 
rock. What he had heard in the “ Arabian Nights ” of en- 
chanted gardens and castles seemed here to be realized. Per- 
haps here should he receive assistance and fortune. He said 
his evening prayers, and then, full of confidence, approached 
the statue of Andromeda. That was certainly a beautiful 
princess who had been turned to stone. He touched her foot, 
it was cold as ice. She gazed down upon him with a melan- 
choly glance. 

In the long avenue it was still deep night ; but on either 
side the illumination stood out sharply. At regular distances 
stood here stone pillars with large balls. These seemed to 
him dwarfs which guarded the way. A similar avenue 
stretched itself in the opposite direction, and between the two 
lay a lake with precipitate shores, and in it an island. From 
the principal building streamed lights in gay brightness 
through the silken curtains, and from thence sounded the en- 
chanting melody. Was it, then, as if there were no end to 
the avenue } In it lay also enchantment doubtless ! 

At length he stood before the entrance, and in the moon- 
light saw the colossal eagles which bear the escutcheon of the 
noble family, and they seemed to him rocs of the “ Arabian 
Tales ; ” he feared lest they should raise their huge wings, 
and fly down and peck his eyes out ; but they did not move. 
Then he became more courageous, ascended the steps, saw the 
mighty stars of light, v/hich, as of glittering glass, hung down 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


84 

from the ceiling j the beautiful women, light as soap-bubbles, 
float over the floor, and grandly dressed gentlemen. He did 
not venture to enter the enchanted castle ; only the soft tones 
might he drink in, and these were a life-balm to his pining 
heart. 

Upon the steps lay a woolen rug for the dogs of this noble 
family, so that they might not lie upon the cold stones ; he 
wrapped himself up in it, his head sunk, and he fell asleep. 
The wind strewed yellow leaves over the sleeper ; sleep had 
chained him to the earth of which he was a part. His lips 
moved slowly in his dream. Child of poverty upon the cold 
steps, in the dark night, art thou more than that masterpiece 
of marble ? An immortal soul lies in thy breast ! 

The music ceased, the lights were extinguished, it was quiet 
in the whole large house, but quicker streamed the tones and 
the brightness of the lights in the soul of the sleeper. He 
found himself in the splendid hall, which was filled with awful 
beauty. The walls were summer-clouds, the portal a bright, 
glittering rainbow, and the eagles had received life, — they 
shook their black plumage until stars fell from their huge 
pinions. The music resounded and the dancers floated like 
feathers in the air. When he looked forth from the portal into 
the garden he saw the beautiful blue mountains of which his 
father had related, and from these descended, hand-in-hand, 
Naomi and Lucie ; they approached the castle, he beckoned 
to them, they were quite close to him, — then he awoke. The 
moon shone directly into his face, so that for a moment he 
imagined he still saw the splendor of the beautiful saloon. 

The wind blew chill ; a death-like silence reigned around ; 
it was clear to him in what a forlorn condition he found him- 
self. He stood up, and walked a few paces ; the large, dead 
building, the long, stiff avenues, with their white monuments, 
had something dreary in them ; Christian’s teeth chattered 
with cold. To seek protection from the cold wind, he entered 
the little wood. There was an excavation, a kind of sand-pit ; 
he descended into it. Suddenly there arose a human figure 
in a huge outline. 

“ Who is there ? what dost thou want? ” demanded a sharp 
voice. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 85 

“ O Lord Jesus ! ” cried Christian, and fell upon his knees. 

“ Art thou a child ? ” asked the form. 

Christian related who he was, how forlorn he was, and at 
the same moment a pair of arms embraced him. 

“ Dost thou not know me ? ” said the voice. “ Dost thou 
no longer know thy godfather ? Speak low — quite low, I tell 
thee.” 

And Christian became joyful, pressed himself to his god- 
father, and kissed him on the cheek. 

“ What a beard thou hast ! ” remarked Christian. 

“ But for all that I am not the wolf that devoured the old 
grandmother and the little girl,” answered the man. 

“ O yes ! thou didst tell me that story once before. It is 
long since I have heard any stories. They have taken my 
fiddle away and sold it, and Niels has made a kite out of the 
music-book. But that is all one, if I may only remain with 
thee.” 

The godfather put his arms round his neck and caressed 
him after his manner ; and it was quite in the ordinary course 
of things that they met here, for the godfather was on a 
journey. The moon now rose so high, that she shone upon 
the little group. The godfather was pale and yellow in his 
countenance ; his beard and hair were in disorder. Christian 
sat upon his knee and listened to a history, but not in the re- 
motest degree did he imagine that this was his godfather’s own 
history : — 

“ Now there was once born a hero of virtue : thou wilt 
soon hear what a strange sort of animal it was. Whilst he 
still lay in the cradle he was white and red like roses and 
lilies, had innocent eyes, and was called an Angel of God. 
He should be brought up in innocence ; but in the night came 
the Devil, and made him drink the milk of his black goat. 
Then wild desires inflamed his blood, but no one remarked 
this until he had assumed all the manners of a hero of virtue. 
And the child grew into a boy, who could blush at a merry 
word. He read industriously in the Bible, but it always 
happened that he opened at the place where the beautiful 
woman in Solomon’s Song is described — the most beautiful 
of Solomon’s wives ; or he found Susanna in the bath ; 01 


86 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


David with Bathsheba. No one knew his thoughts, for his 
words were pure as the snow which as yet no foot has trodden. 
Of this was the hero of virtue proud, and would like to have 
seen himself carried about in a cage, so that all the world 
might admire such a wonderful animal. Thou knowest that 
out of old mead may a basilisk be created, but the Devil’s 
milk is a yet more powerful drink ; it made of him a wild 
beast, which would wind itself about and cringe : it vaunted 
itself and so did this hero. They were two cocks which 
swelled with pride. Once he went out into a wood, and he 
met a maiden, beautiful and pure. Her beauty spurred on 
the powers of the monster, and the virtue-hero became a wild 
beast in the arms of the maiden. She cried for help, but that 
was only an artifice of the Devil ; and the virtue-hero seized 
her throat, so that the voice died away and she became black 
and blue. Then he flung her down into the abyss. But from 
out the beautiful form which he had embraced arose serpents 
and lizards, which hissed around him, crept on bushes and 
trees, and cried to him from all around : ‘ Thou art a sinful 
man, like the rest ! ’ And the dark pines nodded their heads 
and said : ‘ Thou art a murderer ! ’ Then fled the virtue- 

hero to foreign lands, where the trees would know nothing and 
be silent. But winged lizards followed him ; they called and 
sang again from out the bushes, and lamented like the cricket 
behind the stove : but he seized his fiddle and mimicked them. 
They then fell asleep. His blood became hotter. The neigh- 
bor’s daughter — But thou hearest nothing of what I tell 
thee, boy ! ” said he, continuing to mutter to himself, in an un- 
intelligible manner. “ He sleeps ! If one could thus slumber 
into eternity ! To sleep without dreaming, what a benefit 
must that be ! ” 

His hand glided over the boy’s countenance ; his fingers 
touched his throat. “ Now rides Death over the threads of thy 
life ! Thy soul is pure and innocent, and if there be a state 
of happiness thou hast a clear title to it, if I involuntarily send 
thee out of this life. Ah, how little is required to send a soul 
out of the world ! But I will not ! May they all suffer and 
be tormented, as I have suffered and been tormented ! Men 
shall exercise their sharp tongues on thy tender heart, until it 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 


87 

shall be covered with a hard skin ; their eyes shall so long 
gaze at thee, until thy thoughts shall turn to poison. Man is 
a wicked animal ; even the best have moments when poison 
drops from their tongues. And art thou his slave ? Thou 
must be silent, and, with thy heart full of hate, kiss his hand.” 

In the early morning awoke Christian ; his eyes sought his 
godfather, but he saw him nowhere. He cast a glance upward, 
and above him swung, among the branches of the tree, a — 
corpse ! Mouth and eyes were open, the black hair fluttered 
in wild disorder around the pale, swollen countenance. 
Christian uttered a cry of anguish ; it was indeed his god- 
father whom he saw hanging there ! One moment's terror 
chained him to the spot ; then he ran, flying over walls and 
ditches, out of the garden, and reached the high-road. Be- 
hind him lay, like an evil dream, the wood with the form of 
terror swinging in it 1 


CHAPTER XIIL 


“ I live on the wild, wild sea, 

Where my apron is a jack. 

My shift a sail, and fishes only are fish ; 

There my jest gets no clothes to its back, — 

For what it’s worth I let it go. 

I do not have to cook my words, 

My comrades eat them raw enow.” — Baggesen. 

** Hurrah for the jolly tars ! ” 

The People's Play, — Capriciosa. 

T some distance Christian saw a woman and a young girl 



walking on the road ; he approached them, and they 
called him by his name. They were Lucie and her mother, 
who in the early morning had set out to visit the mother’s 
brother, Peter Vieck, who with his yacht lay at Svendborg. 

Christian in a confused manner told of the godfather in the 
wood, and owing to the horrors of a suicide, peculiar to the 
lower class, or perhaps to the possibility of getting involved in 
the investigations of the police, Lucie’s mother walked all the 
faster, without, however, interrupting the discourse. 

“ But, Almighty God ! were you then both together there 
all night ? ” asked she. 

“ I met him there,” answered Christian ; and then con- 
fessed that it was without the knowledge of his parents that he 
had left the house. 

“ God preserve us ! They must be in great anxiety on thy 
account. Thou must not go farther ! Return home ! If they 
should scold thee, and beat thee a little, it will then be well 
again ! ” 

“Ah, no!” sighed Christian. “May I not remain with 
you ? Do not withdraw your hand from me I I will with 
pleasure tend your fowls and ducks, and sleep upon the straw 
in the loft ; let me only remain with you : do not drive me back 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 89 

again to the house ! ” He burst into tears, and kissed the 
woman’s hands and apron. 

Then tears came into Lucie’s eyes, and she besought for 
him. “ Let him remain with us, mother ! Dost thou not 
know how badly his half-brother behaved to him in the 
church ? ” 

“ But I have no power over him ! I cannot take him from 
his parents ! ” 

“ He can easily go with us to Svendborg ; uncle will let him 
sleep all night in the ship, and to-morrow he can return with 
us. Then thou wilt first speak with his parents, and when 
their worst anger is abated and they will no longer scold him, 
he can return home again. He may do so, mother j may he 
not?” 

Christian looked at her sorrowfully ; she took him by the 
hand. 

“ Do not be sad ! mother likes thee,” said she, and looked 
beseechingly at her mother. 

“ Be it so, in God’s name ! ” said she. “ God has conducted 
thee to us ; therefore, remain with us ! Thou shalt suffer no 
want in Svendborg. To-morrow thou wilt go back with us ? ” 

“Yes,” answered Christian, whilst a deep sigh burst from 
his breast. 

Then she again questioned him about the godfather, and 
about what he had been. The boy replied as well as he could. 
Lucie spoke of the dear uncle, and of the ship on which they 
should go on board, of the nice little cabin with the small win- 
dows and red curtains, and of the shadow-picture of her un- 
cle’s deceased wife, who had been a Swede from Malmo. She 
spoke of the shelf with the Bible, the hymn-book, and Alber- 
tus Julius, and of the old fiddle. 

At these words Christian’s eyes sparkled. “ Fiddle ! ” ex- 
claimed he ; and now he had a presentiment, for the first time, 
of how dear this man might become to him. 

In the forenoon they reached Svendborg. With what joy 
did he once more see lovely Thorseng, the straits, and the 
whole town ! He could have nodded to all the houses, for in 
truth they were his old acquaintance. They went up the Mill 
Street ; he looked down toward his godfather’s house ; the 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


90 

window-shutters were not put to, but the door was fastened. 
They reached the bridge. 

“There lies the Lucie said the mother, and pointed to a 
vessel. 

“ And there stands uncle ! ” cried Lucie, and they quick- 
ened their pace. 

A little stout man in a flowered cotton jacket, and of a red, 
jovial countenance, stood on the deck. 

“ How, then I you are really here ! ” exclaimed he ; “ now 
that we really must put down. Lisbeth, and my little land- 
sailor, you came from the north with a south wind. Now, up 
with you on the plank ! ” 

“ But will it bear us ? ” asked Lisbeth. 

“ If it bear such a freight as me, it will certainly bear 
you, you tiny chickens ! How tall thou art grown, Lucie ! 
Soon a bride. Shall he be thy bridegroom, this little bit of a 
fellow whom thou hast brought with thee ? ” He pointed to 
Christian. “ Nay, nay, out of Jack will grow a John ! Take 
care, my lad, that she does not slip away from thee, before 
thou givest her the wedding-ring ! ” 

“ How neat everything is here about thee, dear uncle ! ” said 
Lucie. 

“ The devil ! dost thou think my ship is a pig-sty ? No, my 
s^2i-Lucie is every morning washed and adorned like every 
other little doll ; and do we sweep before a good wind through 
the sea, her body is bathed in quite another way. The deck 
must be clean ; work-a-days it is my promenade ; Sundays, 
my church. But that you should pay me a visit, that is quite 
unexpected : that was a good idea, Lisbeth ! ” 

“To speak the truth,” answered she, “ it was Lucie who 
thought of it ; and there was no peace in the house until we 
set out on our journey.” 

“ It is more than a year since I saw thee, uncle,” said the 
girl. 

“ But Esben shall run to land and order three portions of 
soup, and a good roasted piece of meat ; for, by my soul, you 
shall dine with me on board. Esben makes chicory coffee 
which we might set before the Emperor ; I have taught him 
how to clear it with isinglass. Come down with me into the 


ONL Y A FIDDLER I 


91 

cabin ! I must lay my old ship somewhat on one side, so as 
to get down. I have never in all my life fallen out with a sin- 
gle human soul ; and yet every day am I quarreling with my 
cabin door, because it squeezes my ribs. Formerly I was as 
thin as a lath.” 

In the cabin was everything just as Lucie had already de- 
scribed it. The little red curtains fluttered before the cabin- 
windows, between which hung the silhouette of Mrs. Vieck. 
Above the windows, on a shelf, lay the books and the violin j 
this especially attracted Christian’s attention, for however sim- 
ple an instrument it might be, it still seemed to him an Alad- 
din’s lamp, which had power over spirits, — the mighty spirits 
of music. 

“ If the windows only came down a little lower, it would be 
lighter here,” said Lucie. 

“ Lower down ! ” returned Peter Vieck \ then the sea 
would wash the whole body of the vessel clean ! Thou dost 
not understand as much of sea matters as a goose, which 
steers itself with its two legs. Ah, you land people are fine 
ones ! Dost not thou know the story of the boat, or the young 
ship ? There were once some wise people of thy description, 
who wished to buy themselves a ship, but they had not money 
enough to pay for a great vessel, and therefore bought a jolly- 
boat which they saw hanging on the stern, thinking it was a 
young one w'hich was still growing. Now they took this young 
one to graze, so that it might eat and grow big ; and because 
the creature would not eat, they thought it was ill and pining 
for its mother. Therefore they gave the sailors money that it 
might remain a year longer with its mother, till it had learned 
to eat alone. And when the sailors, not wishing to refuse the 
wise people this, bound the jolly-boat behind the ship, they 
exclaimed, ‘ See how merry he is now ! ’ That was when they 
saw it tossing on the waters behind the great ship. Yes, yes, 
you land people are good sea-folks ! ” He then inquired 
about Christian, and learned his history, and that he had left 
his parents. But with regard to the affair of the godfather he 
said, speaking in his peculiar manner, it would be best to let 
the affair sail its own course, and not steer in this track. For 
this night, Lisbeth and Lucie could sleep at his lodgings on 


ONLY A FIDDLE/^! 


92 

shore ; he himself would remain on board, where Christian 
might have a berth. When the two were left alone together, 
the acquaintance became somewhat more intimate. 

“Now, my youth,” said Peter Vieck, “shall we combat 
with the sandman ? but thou mayest believe he will soon whip 
us up into the third heaven ! Or shall I fetch myself a glass 
of grog and a pipe, and gossip a bit with the two women- 
folk ? Thou sayest that thou canst play the fiddle ! well then, 
let me hear thee fiddle.” 

Christian trembled with joy as he touched the strings ; he 
made some of the most artistical preludes which his godfather 
had taught him. 

“ Yes, truly ! ” said Peter Vieck, smiling, “ that is a very 
nice melody if it had only been in another tune ; that is truly 
Arabic that thou art playing, for it gets into one’s head like 
old cognac. Canst not thou play a piece that will put the 
legs in motion ” He took the violin himself, and played a 
Molinaski. Then he asked about Christian’s condition at 
home, and about his half-brother, Niels. “ But why art thou 
such a flat fellow as not to give blows in return ? ” said he 
then. “ Give him a good thumper, and he will soon draw 
in his horns. Sell thy fiddle ! that was- a sin ! Thou must 
stand on thy own feet. Nay, truly ! stand thou couldst not, 
and therefore thou hast got out of the way. True it is, things 
often go on worse on land than on open sea. What, then, 
was thy own father } ” 

Christian related. 

“ I knew him,” said the sailor. “ Yes, he crawled off to 
land at Leghorn. By my soul, he was no bad fellow, although 
he was a tailor.” 

“ Could I only go to foreign lands ! ” sighed Christian. 

“ O, if I could only remain in your ship ! ” At these words 
he seized the old seaman’s hand, and his eyes became as 
eloquent as his lips. 

“ If thy mother said Yes, thou couldst always remain with 
me, for I must have a lad ; but I will tell thee this : we do ^ 
not always lie in harbor ; we get into the sea, where Lucie 
begins to dance, and where thou mightest get a little shower- 
bath. It may also chance that thou mayest get a jacketful or 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


93 

a good knock ; and then thou must give up all thoughts of 
running away, my lad. Neither have we always coffee and 
sour bread on the table. Sleep now in the little cabin ; there 
thou liest as safely as in thy mother’s box.” 

Peter Vieck sat on the deck, drank his grog, and smoked 
his pipe to it ; Christian laid himself down to sleep. Pious 
trust in God filled his childish soul. 

In the early morning, as was his custom, he left his bed ; 
this made a good impression on the captain. 

“ Thou dost like the cocks,” said he ; “ thou art early on 
thy legs : that I like ! But it would be best for thee to sail 
landward, so that thou mayest have thy papers clear, and 
mother say. Thou mayest move off. God help me ! now he 
is chop-fallen ! Yes, thou art the right sea-fish for me ! ” 

“ O, keep him with thee, dear uncle ! ” besought Lucie, 
when she came and saw Christian mournful. “ Mother will 
go over this evening to his parents, and tell them all. He 
has no one who could be to him such a good uncle as thou art 
to me ! ” And her small hands glided caressingly over her 
great-uncle’s wrinkled cheeks. 

“ Nay, only see ! has not that thing already the departed 
Mrs. Peter Vieck’s manners, when she wishes to sail in deep 
water ? You women are, after all, droll stuff! ” 

Lucie did not desist from her sure art of persuasion, and 
Christian might now remain until the wishes of his parents 
had been learned. 

Already on the following day, Marie came to Svendborg ; 
she was alone, hastened immediately to the vessel, and kissed 
the boy and scolded him at the same time. 

“ Good Heavens ! to run away from us in that way ! Yes, 
thou art thy father’s child to the very letter ; he also caused me 
trouble. Thou must not think that I will beat thee, although 
thou dost deserve it. Only try what it is being among stran- 
gers I I know well what I endured with thy father. And 
dost thou think I should have married again, except on thy 
account ? I do not walk on roses, thou mayest believe that. 
But thou art a spoiled child ! Sail away with the ship, and 
if it is lost with man and mouse, I shall have that sorrow 
also.” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


94 

Such were the words of the tenderly scolding mother ; and 
Christian now became a sailor-boy. A kind of contract was 
signed ; the only thing which he had properly understood was 
the permission of sometimes borrowing the captain’s fiddle, 
for he had anxiously besought this when asked whether he 
understood everything. 

Now he must make acquaintance with the fore-stay and jib, 
and soon he hung in the rigging like a sea-mew, although he 
had had no previous practice in springing and climbing. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


** I gaze from the side of the ship deep down into the water ; the sea-king 
sits musing in the twilight on his watch-tower, as if he with his long beard 
were sleeping over his harp. The ships are coming and going over his 
head, but he hardly observes it ; from his coral-reef he salutes them as if 
dreaming. ” — Eichendorff. 

O N the 1 8th of October was everything on board ready 
for sailing. Beside the captain, Peter Vieck, the ship’s 
company consisted of three sailors ; there were also two passen- 
gers on board, a lady and a gentleman. The former was an 
elderly gouvernante, who in hei blooming days had appeared 
on the stage of the theatre at Odense, but which she had after- 
ward left on account, as she said, of a moral consideration. 
Besides this she wrote verses, but only in the German lan- 
guage ; for alone in it, said she, could sublime thoughts be 
expressed. She was now going to a noble family in Copenha- 
gen. The gentleman, on the contrary, lived in the capital, and 
was a counselor-of-war, — a title which he had bought at the 
desire of his wife. 

The vessel passed, in full sail, St. Jiirgenshof and the fishing- 
village. It seemed to Christian hastening on into the wide 
world. China or Copenhagen, both were new to him. Peter 
Vieck would sail between the islands, and keep an open sea. 

The two passengers had already made acquaintance with 
each other, and yet the Zt/ae had not yet passed the island of 
Arro before the counselor-of-war had laid before the gouver- 
nante-elect all his joys and sorrows. He was a poet, and had 
in his time sent contributions to the Evening Post ” and Paul- 
sen’s “ New Year’s Gift,” yet always under a false name ; elegiac 
poetry was his peculiar forte : besides this he wrote catalogues 
for auctions, critiques, and any kind of light article. 

But one takes no pleasure in it, ” said he. “ One sits down 
to look out for faults, about which one only angers one’s self ; 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


96 

and if one makes them known people are angry. ‘ Irritable 
genus ! ’ as the Roman says. I have practiced myself in all 
the measures of Horace, which now, alas ! are neglected for the 
more modern ones, which must anger any man of classic taste. 
I have also raised my voice against them, have written against 
them, and annoyed myself and many other people who have 
sent epigrams to the papers ; but I never read what appears 
in the gazettes and journals except what I send myself. Then 
they sent me by the foot-post a satirical poem, in which I was 
called a busseman ; and that was written with a double which 
is quite incorrect, because the word comes from buse^ that is, a 
pirate-vessel which in former times was employed by pirates, 
who were called busemen^ after their ships. It is quite annoy- 
ing when people apply themselves to writing when they don^t 
know how to spell, which is just like people wishing to talk 
when they have no teeth. Stay! that thought was a good 
one ; that I must note down,” interrupted he himself, repeating 
the last words of his definition to himself, and then writing it 
down with his pencil in his poCket-book. “You see, Mamsell, 
I have accustomed myself to let nothing good be lost; if I 
have a good idea I write it down, for since I have undertaken 
to write the parts for our dramatic company I have, like Jean 
Paul, a drawer near me full of strips of paper with such ideas, 
and these I insert in the different parts, which produces a good 
effect.” 

The gouvernante related to her companion how she already, 
for eleven years, had kept a journal, but always in the German 
language. 

This was the low comic reality of every-day life which here 
showed itself, but in both of them we may find a beautiful and 
poetical side ; for all people have this side, even although it 
may only show itself momentarily. Even in the crooked mind 
of the gouvernante there lay something which must touch every 
one. For almost an entire year she had lived on tea and bread, 
for that was all which her industry could earn for the morning, 
mid day, and evening meal. Her standing idea was. Virtue is 
my goal. The counselor-of-war was devoted to what was old. 
What could he, indeed, do, since Heaven had given him no 
Janus countenance, which looked equally well before and 
after ? 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


97 


At noon the vessel entered the open sea — this ostrich of the 
sea, which rushes over the great wastes of ocean, leaving behind 
it gulfs and bays ; too heavy to raise itself in the air, it has at 
the same time the speed of a bird. The swelling sails stood 
forth like wings from the little caravan which moved along its 
way. Christian saw how the coasts of his own country lost 
more and more their well-known aspect ; the quick passage, 
the fresh sea-air, and the many new objects which glided past, 
filled his soul with strange thoughts. 

The last sunbeams disappeared in the mist which lay upon 
the ocean. It became dark. The lantern on the poop only 
cast its light upon the nearest ropes. The waves struck with 
a monotonous splash against the sides of the vessel, which 
with quick speed glided over the palaces of the sea-kings. Sud- 
denly it struck against some object ; a loud cry was heard, 
which, however, was soon again silent ; the waters beat more 
violently against the ship, and on board was heard a grating 
noise at the bottom. 

“Lord Jesus ! ” cried the sailor at the rudder, at the same 
time giving a movement to the vessel. 

The lantern was drawn up, the jolly-boat let down, and 
Christian must ring the ship’s bell, — a boat full of men had 
they sailed over in the dark night. 

“ Death’s mystery is too deep for us to trace ! 

Canst thou unmoved gaze into his face ? 

More than the dreaming poet can conceive 
Will Death, the realizer, to us give. 

“ Ws know already here this plainest truth, 

That they are happiest who have died in youth • 

But w’e are only children, yet too small 
For that which in yon world awaiteth all.” 

“ The morning air is cold,” said the counselor-of-war, when 
he, at break of day, thrust forth his yellowish countenance from 
the cabin-door. The wind blew sharply, and had raised the 
mist into clouds ; the dark-green sea showed her white foam. 
“ The sky looks doubtful,” pursued the counselor-of-war. 

“It looks somewhat bad,” answered the captain, and pointed 
toward the flying rain-clouds. 

7 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


98 

“ Were you ever out at sea in such bad weather before ? ” 
inquired the gouvernante. 

“ What is the matter with the weather ? ” said Peter Vieck ; 
“ it is as splendid as one can wish it to be ! Had we a flying 
three-quarter wind the Lucie would reel about in another 
fashion.” Silent he remained at the rudder, and looked out 
over the foaming sea. 

“ I have made preparations for sea-sickness,” said the 
counselor-of-war. “ I have vellum-paper on my legs, blotting- 
paper on my stomach, and a nutmeg on the pit of the stomach. 
I have also provided myself with lemon-peel for chewing.” 

The gouvernante had merely provided herself with a green 
silk thread, bound round the left hand, and always turned her 
face against the wind. 

“You must not imagine that you will be seasick, my little 
Mamsell,” said the counselor-of-war.* “ I can read you a little 
treatise to divert you. I have here a practical proposition for 
the royal theatrical direction, which you would, perhaps, like to 
hear. First, I propose that every theatrical singer shall be 
obliged to sing that part which is laid before him — let it be 
bass or tenor, it is all the same : if he have a voice he must 
be able to sing ; and you see, Mamsell, that is really a change 
for the better. In the second place, I wish that each theatrical 
poet shall be answerable for the success of his piece ; if this 
do not at the first or second representation bring a certain 
sum to the funds of the theatre, the poet must make good 
what is wanting. This is a proposal which is very advanta- 
geous, for the funds are always the important thing about the 
stage ; and by this means, also, the writing mania of certain 
original writers may be tamed a little.” 

“ I feel so unwell about my heart ! ” here interrupted the 
gouvernante. 

At this moment a wave dashed over the ship, and with its 
salt-water sprinkled these fresh theatrical regulations. 

“ A little piece of lemon-peel ! ” cried the counselor-of-war. 

“ O Heavens ! ” sighed the gouvernante ; “ I who so dearly 
love the sea when I am on land ! ” 

“ Truly, a most original speech,” said the counselor-of-war. 
“ Do you permit me, Mamsell, to note down this thought ? ” 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 99 

He took his pocket-book to write it down, whilst Peter 
Vieck bore the gouvernante into the cabin. 

Meantime the counselor-of-war studied navigation ; upon 
which he intended, after completing his journey, to write a 
treatise ; for there was no subject in which he had not appeared 
as an author, from the preparation and employment of bone- 
dust as manure to philosophical reflections upon the character 
of Hamlet, because he understood all subjects equally well. 
Therefore he hoped that government would, some time, be 
made observant of him, and give him a post as inspector of 
the stud, head-pilot, or theatrical director, since his ability was 
able to make itself available everywhere. 

On the morning of the following day he observed the chalk 
rocks of the island Moen, past which the vessel sailed. In 
his hand he held the manuscript of the collected poems of 
the gouvernante. It was a pity that just the very poem which 
referred to this neighborhood, “ On seeing the island Moen 
by Moonlight,” was wanting in this collection, as the authoress 
did not write it till fourteen days after her arrival in Copen- 
hagen, when she had studied the rocks in “ Molbech’s Youth- 
ful Wanderings,” where they are represented in unnatural 
magnitude. 

“ Insula Mona, it is called in Latin,” said the counselor-of- 
war. “ There is an uncommon melody in the language of the 
ancients ! They were men ! ” He then sank into a silent 
delight over the sublime wisdom of men who had lived two 
thousand years ago, and seized his pocket-book to note down 
all the beautiful thoughts which were born of these dreams. 

Toward evening the towers of Copenhagen and the castle 
of Christiansborg arose out of the Gulf of Kjoge. The eye 
took in the outlines as darkness again obliterated the picture. 
In the same manner arise also in our soul the remembrances 
of former dream-pictures ; yet, whilst we strive after them, does 
the darkness again close over them. Will a day at length 
arise when all that we have here dreamed will be changed into 
reality ? 

More and more did the number of ships increase which met 
them ; in the distance already glittered the lights of Copenha- 
gen and of the island Amack. Christian heard now the wind- 


I oo 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


lass turned ; the anchor was let down, voices were heard from 
the land ; Peter Vieck got into a jolly-boat ; he was followed 
by the counselor-of-war and the gouvernante, the latter of 
whom thrust a few skillings into the sailor-boy’s hand. 

Already this night they were to sleep in this great, wonder- 
ful city : on the morrow was Christian to see it. Would it 
indeed be larger then Svendborg ? Would the houses resem- 
ble the castle at Thorseng, and would there be also music 
here ? Whilst these thoughts busied his soul, there resounded 
from the ramparts of the near citadel a bugle-horn. The 
wind bore the soft, melancholy tones across the water to his 
ear ; he folded his hands in silent prayer. 


CHAPTER XV. 


“ In the dancing-hall I also once have been. ” — Carl Dahlgreen. 



HE morning dawned ; Christian hastened on deck ; 


X and if a marble city with golden roofs had lain before 
him he would not have been astonished, his imagination was 
prepared for anything. He had fancied to himself that the 
first view of the large city would enchant him ; but there was 
nothing at all of anything he had conceived. He saw many 
ships, some houses, and, on the small promontory to the left, 
a row of high buildings, which seemed to swim upon the wa- 


ter. 


The sun now shone upon the many half-finished vessels 
which lay in the docks ; the workmen became visible ; and 
the Zuc/e glided along the broad stream between the islands 
and the city ; buildings came into sight, towers and bridges 
became distinct. They sailed down a whole long street : that 
was “ Newhaven.” Tall houses -stood on either side — no 
house in Svendborg had so many stories. Large and small 
vessels lay here side by side in the broad canal, and from each 
streamed its gay flag, for there was a wedding in the harbor. 
That was a splendid sight, just as if the king were coming ! 
In the narrow streets, on either side the canal, carriages and 
coaches rushed past, and people cried and shouted. Grandly 
dressed ladies and gentlemen passed by without greeting each 
other. 

The Zi/ae was now brought alongside the bastion and 
made fast. 

At the end of the canal there lay a large market-place, and 
from thence resounded festive and beautiful music ! Yes, 
doubtless, in this great city there was nothing but festival days 
and joy. The day vanished like a single hour ; and when 
evening approached, and the flags were lowered, there ap- 


102 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


peared in all windows, in honor of the bridal pair, lights which 
illuminated the whole canal, and mirrored the houses in the 
clear water. A boy with an organ played melancholy dances. 

“ Ah ! ” sighed Christian, “ if one could only always remain 
in the midst of this splendor and glory ! ” 

Peter Vieck was already gone to pay visits, and two of the 
sailors had received permission to go on land. Christian be- 
sought that they would take him with them, which was not 
quite agreeable to one, who thought the lad could not go wdth 
them to Steffen-Margaret’s. Nevertheless, he went. 

They stepped on land, and went over the large square. 
Here sat a bronze king on horseback, surrounded by four gi- 
gantic figures. The buildings which he now saw seemed to 
him to be palaces ] and in the streets through which they 
passed every shop gleamed out more beautifully than the last. 
Here was a crush ! Carriages rushed past far oftener than to 
the ball at the town-hall at Svendborg. They now reached 
smaller streets, but the houses here were equally high ; and at 
the open windows sat beautiful, elegant ladies, dressed as if for 
a ball, who greeted the passers-by in as polite and friendly a 
manner as if they had been their acquaintance. At the corner 
of a street sat, cowering on the cold, dirty steps, a young, deathly 
pale woman. She was wrapped in rags ; a little half-naked 
boy lay weeping in her lap ; a yellow, sickly-looking baby lay 
at her famished breast ; she leaned her head against the wall 
and cursed ; she seemed neither to feel anything for the elder 
nor yet for the younger child. 

“ She is ill ! ” exclaimed Christian. “ Shall we not tell the 
genteel ladies ? ” 

The sailors laughed, and led him into a by-street, where 
flutes and violins resounded from a low house. Here they 
entered. 

Jubilant tones flowed through the boy’s heart ; the number 
of lights in the chandeliers and small lamps blinded him, al- 
though a gray mist lay over all. With his hat in his hand, he 
bowed with a friendly air on all sides, but no one paid any at- 
tention. The men were not dressed up, but the ladies were 
all the more so, and their cheeks bloomed like roses. A 
great fellow danced with his pipe in his mouth, and blew great 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


clouds of smoke over the shoulders of his lady. Near the 
door sat a young girl with her cavalier ; certainly they were 
betrothed ! Now appeared a tall lady in a white dress ; she 
wore flowers in her hair, and carried a bottle of ale in her 
hand. That was Steflen-Margaret. She knew the seamen, 
and was perhaps related to them, for she threw her arms 
round them and gave a kiss of welcome. That was an espe- 
cially beautiful lady ! She spoke so sweetly to Christian, and 
gave him a glass of punch. He kissed her hand, and she 
kindly parted his hair and stroked it back from his face. She 
was certainly a thoroughly kind lady ! 

Full of reverence, and with a grateful heart, he quitted her 
house. The history of the peasant-boy who became emperor 
occurred to him : yes, would this grand lady only interest 
herself about him, he could easily attain to playing the violin ; 
perhaps find a place among the other musicians ; perhaps 
become something still grander ; but it must be in the mu- 
sical line ! 

It was become tolerably quiet in the streets. It was 
already late in the night, but of that he was not aware. Still 
sounded the flutes and violins, and through the heart cut in 
the window-shutter streamed a long ray of light. Now, a 
watchman of a by-street blew his whistle, voices were heard ; 
there was a tumult. Immediately there passed him a strange 
procession. Upon a ladder there lay bound a young girl, 
dressed like the ladies of the saloon, and watchmen bore her 
away. Christian knew not what to think of this city, or of 
the people who lived in it. He again reached his ship ; the 
houses were still illuminated, and the lights reflected them- 
selves in the waters of the harbor. The sailors forbade him 
to tell the captain where he had been with them. 

Overpowered by the various impressions which the past day 
and evening had made upon his young soul, he could not 
sleep ; predominant was the thought, — Couldst thou always 
remain here ! The lady who had kissed and caressed him 
appeared so good, and of such consequence, he would confide 
in her 1 She could do a deal for him, and she would willingly 
do it, were he right candidly to reveal his inclination for the 
violin. Full of pious faith he included her in his evening 


104 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


prayer, and determined some day secretly to go to her. Then 
did sleep close his weary eyes. 

The next morning, as he hung high up among the rigging 
to repair something, he was astonished at the wide prospect 
which presented itself. On the right he had the large market- 
place with the bronze statues ; on the left he looked over the 
islands into the dark-blue sea, and on toward the Swedish 
coast. But more than all the rest, did the sight of a garden 
captivate him, which was close behind the wall before which 
the ship lay. Wonderfully beautiful and rare plants grew in 
it, and a large poplar, which reminded him strongly of the 
Jew’s garden which he had once seen as a child. Behind the 
high bushes looked forth glass-houses, behind the windows of 
which were leaves and flowers visible. It was the Botanic 
Garden which so attracted him. Everything which he had 
■seen of Copenhagen was perfectly beautiful ; and still the 
^others said he had as yet seen nothing. Here he desired to 
remain ; God would certainly help him to do so, thought he. 
As soon as he should be again permitted to go on shore he 
would seek out the friendly lady, upon w'hom he had founded 
all his hopes. 

In the following week was the birthday of the reigning 
queen. All the vessels which lay in the harbor hoisted their 
colors, and the streets resounded with all kinds of music. 
Christian received permission to wander about by himself, 
and now it was needful to find his way to the little street in 
which he had been the first evening. 

The great, grand street with its many shops he soon found. 
Here fluttered all manner of gay stufls at the doors, the most 
amusing toys were to be seen in the windows, and the signs 
were like pictures — one might have adorned the walls of 
a room beautifully with them. Sunk in contemplation, he 
wandered from one street to another ; the one he sought he 
did not find. He came to a square where a fountain fell into 
a h)asin, and the streams played with golden apples. This 
happened in honor of the day. Yes, Copenhagen was a 
glorious city! But how should he again find that lady? 
There were no other means to be thought of, he must beg the 
sailors to take him once more with them ; then he would more 
carefully impress on his memory where she lived. 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


105 

In the evening there was an illumination ; in the great 
market-place burnt pitch-torches, and the king and queen 
drove in their splendid carriages to the play. 

“ There we also will go some evening, said Peter Vieck. 

There thou shalt hear music, and see fine things.” 

Could there, then, be more splendid music than he had 
heard in the streets ? Could gayety be carried to a greater 
excess than he had seen among the gayly dressed ladies ? 

They went through a by-street ; Christian knew it again. 
The light shone through the cut-out hearts ; in the room re- 
sounded the music. Yes, there was the place where he had 
been. Carefully he now impressed the street and house in 
his memory. 

The next Sunday he asked permission to go to church, pul 
on his best clothes, and went then to the nearest church. He 
had no hymn-book, but he satisfied himself with singing the 
melody after the organ ; and when service was over he sought 
out the well-known street, and at length found it. The shut- 
ters were still closed at the house, and he entered a dark pas- 
sage, in which he found the door so well known to him. Be- 
fore he ventured to knock, he prayed that he might succeed 
in softening the good lady’s heart, so that she should find him 
some musical situation. He had no regularly formed plan. 

He now knocked. An old woman in dirty clothes opened 
the door, and demanded what he wanted ? His answer was 
somewhat disconnected, and the old woman was about to 
fasten the door again, when Steffen-Margaret herself, in a 
light morning-dress, appeared. She wore laced boots with 
fur at the ankles. 

“ Is it thou } ” said she, smiling with her friendly counte- 
nance. “ Hast thou a message from Soren for me ? ” 

The old woman stepped aside, and Christian now seized the 
lady’s hand, kissed her fingers, and then with great naivete re- 
lated his great love of music, how badly it had gone with him 
at home, and how he had now entered the world. At first, the 
lady laughed at him ; soon, however, she listened to him more 
gravely, and at length, when his tears flowed, she dried his 
eyes with her handkerchief. 

“ Yes, my good lad,” said she, “ I have nothing to do with 


io6 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


Turkish music. If thou hadst only been a little girl ! ” She 
then led him to an open cupboard, gave him punch to drink, 
made him a present of apples, and then laughed right heartily. 

Thou art, after all, a kind of genius,” said she. 

At this moment several other young ladies entered from a 
side room ; they were equally lightly clothed, and, when they 
had heard Christian’s proposal, they also laughed and looked 
at him with astonished eyes. 

What might he hope ? and what did she promise him ? 
He was full of joy when he left the house : she had held out 
her hand to him, and had said to him, in a consoling manner, 
he should be of good courage and he would make his way. 

He placed, in truth, as much faith in this consolation as 
many another true genius who lays his fate in the hands of a 
wealthy man or woman, who often knows how to judge these 
things, perhaps, no better than Steffen-Margaret herself. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


“ Margot. — It was she. 

Louison. — And she knew us not ! ” 

The Maid of Orleans. — ScHILLER. 

T his evening we will go to the play,” said Peter Vieck, 
and took good little Christian by the hand. 

A peasant who had never been in a theatre before was once 
taken to see a play ; when he entered the vestibule he went 
straight up to the check-taker’s box, thrust his head through 
the little opening, and remained standing there in the expec- 
tation that this was the place in which he should see the 
play. The same thing might have happened to Christian, for 
never in his life had he seen a theatre. All was new to him 
— the sentinels in the vestibule, as well as the crowd of peo- 
ple who ascended the stairs. 

“ Now thou shalt see a little box ; we will soon sit in the 
middle of it,” said Peter Vieck. “ They will stick us in the 
upper drawer. See, the under ones are a little drawn out, so 
that the ladies may not spoil their grandeur ! ” 

They took their places on the first bench. Christian was in 
a solemn mood ; the whole seemed to him like a great church. 

“ Those laced beds there, on either side, are for the king 
and queen,” said Peter Vieck. “ That painted sheet there, 
in front, goes up into the air like a ship’s sail : and then the 
ladies come forth and stretch out their legs, first this one, then 
that one, like flies upon a dish of milk.” 

The lamps threw their bright light upon the gilt boxes, in 
which sat the richly dressed ladies. And now entered the 
king and the whole court ; Christian felt alarmed, and yet 
was highly delighted ; he was then in the very same house in 
which the king was ; he had only to call out loudly and the 
king would hear, and certainly ask, “ Who calls ? ” 


io8 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


Now all was quite silent, when suddenly there burst forth 
an ocean of music. The representation commenced, and he 
heard such singing as he never heard before. Tears started 
to his eyes ; he suppressed them, for people would certainly 
laugh at him did they see him crying. The joys of heaven 
could not be greater than always sitting here, thought he : 
and yet the piece that was given was somewhat wearisome, 
said the others. But now came the best at the end, the splen- 
did ballet of “ Bluebeard.” 

The music sounded like human voices — yes, like all living 
nature. He fancied he again heard the storm at St. Regissa’s 
Well, when the trees bent like reeds and the leaves whirled 
about. He heard the wind as it rushes through the rigging 
and masts, but melodiously beautiful, far more beautiful than 
his godfather’s playing ; and yet this music reminded Chris- 
tian of him. 

The curtain rose, and Bluebeard’s seven murdered wives 
floated in their white garments over the couch of their mur- 
derer. The music expressed the passionate language of the 
dead ; his imagination followed the whole romantic poem. 
The happy children who danced before Isaura ! Were he only 
among them ! A more beautiful fate than that of these little 
ones he could not imagine upon earth. O, might he only shout 
his wishes, his love of music, to the king, the gracious gentle- 
man would assist him ! But he did not dare to do this. The- 
atrical life seemed to him a magical picture of happiness and 
excellence, and many other people dream the same as he. 

At Paris, in the ballet “ Le Diable Boiteux,” one sees the 
opposite of that which the spectator is accustomed to see. 
One is placed in the scene itself, and gazes from thence upon 
an imaginary theatre ; the scenes turn their unpainted sides 
toward one, the up-rolled background is the curtain, and one 
sees the rows of spectators who applaud and hiss. The 
dancers turn their backs upon the public. By this representa- 
tion one is transported behind the scenes ; could we only gaze 
as easily into the human hearts which there beat, what a 
shadow-world of passions and tears would be revealed ! This 
host of dancing women know in their homes nothing but 
poverty. In the chorus of singers is 07 te who might take the 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


109 


first place on the stage ; but the directors do not know how to 
value him, and the manager cannot endure him. In the theat- 
rical state one lives under the dominion of the Thirty Tyrants. 
A badly paid artist has full right to a ticket for food, gratis, 
from the institution for the relief of the poor. The poet 
receives no pension, in order that the recollection of the naked 
present may keep him in a fit tragical mood. 

“There sits Naomi!” suddenly exclaimed Christian, in the 
midst of his delight at what went on before him. “ Yes, it is 
she 1 ” and his glance forsook the enchanted world, Isaura’s 
struggle, and the seductive golden keys ; for he only saw the 
slender, sweet girl, with the coal-black gazelle eyes and the 
southern complexion. She sat in the first row among the other 
elegantly dressed ladies. “ We have played together,” said 
he to Peter Vieck, and from that moment his interest was 
divided between the ballet and Naomi. 

Only too soon ended that glorious and splendid spectacle, 
and now all hastened forth, as though they had been endeavor- 
ing to escape from something unpleasant. In vain did Chris- 
tian’s eyes search in the crush for Naomi ; she was nowhere 
to be seen : perhaps it was she who just then rolled away in 
the splendid coach ? 

Long did the music sound in Christian’s ears ; the whole 
representation stood livingly before his eyes. Thus do we 
long gaze at the glory of a star when daylight has driven it 
away. Now he felt that there was something higher, some- 
thing nobler than the mere occupations of every-day life ; his 
intellectual being, his genius had been awoke, and strove after 
development. He had a feeling of the pearl which lay con- 
cealed in his soul, the holy pearl of art ; but he knew not yet 
that it, like the ocean pearl, must await the diver, who will 
bring it forth to-day, or must cling fast to the mussels or 
oyster, in order by means of these high patrons to attain 
observation. 

“ Now, my lad, thou wouldst have liked to jump about with 
the rest, wouldst thou not ? ” said Peter Vieck. 

“ Yes 1 ” replied Christian in his enthusiasm. 

“ That is sorrowful bread, my son ! ” said the captain. 
“ When thou or I pay our three marks, they must be our fools.’* 


no 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


No, in that manner it was impossible for him to regard the 
affair ! The king and a thousand people had looked on, and 
listened with the greatest attention ; devotion had filled the 
whole house as in a church. As yet he had forgotten nothing, 
and in the midst of all these longed-for splendors floated 
Naomi’s form before his eyes — she, the friendly playfellow 
of his childhood ! 

Rich in thought lay he in his little berth in the low cabin ; 
a cheerless mist spread its covering over the vessel, as though 
he were lying there concealed and forgotten by the whole 
great city. Perhaps this was an emblem of his future, the 
emblem of many a richly gifted soul. Genius resembles an 
egg, which requires the warmth, the vivifying principle of good 
fortune, that it may not become a wind-egg. 

It was long past midnight before the boy fell asleep. 

Often after that evening did he sit in his dark cabin — for 
in the harbor no vessel is allowed to burn a light — and played 
reminiscences from “ Bluebeard ; ” he busied himself in find- 
ing on his violin the tones which answered to the wind blowing 
through the rigging of the ship. From the music which he 
daily heard played by the main-guard he treasured up in his 
memory whole strains, which he then repeated on his violin as 
a varied pot-pourri. Often flattered he himself with the hope 
that the friendly lady, his good fairy, would suddenly appear 
on board, and work a change in his condition. He thought 
of Naomi ; yes, she loved him ! she had indeed wept when she 
was torn away from him ! 

As he thus one evening sat quite alone in the vessel, lights 
streamed over to him from the beautiful house opposite to 
which the vessel lay at anchor, and he heard gay music. 
There was a dance. The whole reminded him of the evening 
in the Glorup garden. He stood and leaned against the mast, 
thoughtful and listening, and drank in the sweet music. 

Suddenly he thought he would climb up the mast, which 
would bring him on a level with the ball-room. A window 
stood open, and through it he could see the whole gay com- 
pany. It consisted mostly of children ; it was a children’s 
ball which was given. All seemed joyous, and were festally 
arrayed. On the walls of the ball-room hung large paintings ; 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


I I I 


on shining consoles stood two marble busts, and around glit- 
tered lights and mirrors, exhibiting all the objects in an in- 
creased splendor. There now floated a delicate, lovely girl 
over the floor, her black hair fell in curls upon her beautiful 
neck, and her dark eyes beamed a joyous life. “ Naomi ! ’’ 
cried Christian, suddenly with a loud voice ; and he could see 
how she started, looked around her on all sides, and smiled. 
His eyes were alone riveted upon her, his thoughts were with 
her — and he let the ropes glide through^ his hands, sprang on 
land and into the house, rushed up the steps, opened the door 
of the saloon from whence sounded the music, and at once 
stood in the midst of the gayly dressed children, who, full of 
astonishment, stared at the poor sailor-lad, who now, dazzled 
hy the brightness of the lamps and tapers, had returned to 
consciousness, and stood embarrassed in the splendid room. 

“ What dost thou want here } ” asked two half-grown boys, 
whose fathers, one immediately saw, were either wealthy or 
held some office which gave them importance. They were 
two ciphers among the numbers, who reflected no glory on 
their families, but only received their worth from the figures 
behind which they were placed. 

Naomi had also approached him, and observed him with 
curiosity ; she smiled — certainly ! she recognized him ! Chris- 
tian stretched forth his hand toward her and stammered, 
“ Naomi ! ” She became crimson all over. 

“ Dirty lad ! ” exclaimed she, and tore herself away. At 
the same instant a servant entered. 

“ What dost thou want ? ” said he, seizing the boy roughly 
by the shoulder. Christian stammered a few words, whilst 
the servant said he had made a bad hit and had lost nothing 
here. He led him to the steps ; and without replying another 
word, and wounded to the soul, Christian rushed down the 
way he had come, and went again on board. He clung to 
the mast and wept bitterly, whilst the music rejoiced in gay 
dance-melodies. 

The deep grief of a child’s soul is not inferior to the great- 
est sorrows of a grown-up person. The child in his sorrow 
knows not the consolation of hope ; reason does not extend 
her supporting hand toward him, and in the first moments of 


II2 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


his agony he has nothing but his sorrow. She had denied 
him j she, whom he loved as a sister ! He felt that, like the 
Pariah, he belonged to a despised caste. All the fetters which 
chained him pressed, in this moment, tighter round his heart. 
His playfellows in the farm-yard had mocked him, had called 
him a crazy fellow ; Naomi, who had once understood him, 
turned away from the “ dirty lad ! ” 

Such a moment makes rich in experience. The merry 
jubilee above was a Bengal-light, which illuminated the con- 
cluding act of his life’s drama. He again climbed up the 
mast, and gazed through the open window into the splendid 
hall, where Naomi and the happy children, arm-in-arm, floated 
along to the jubilant tones. The domestics presented in 
crystal dishes the most costly meats and splendid fruits, and 
in the middle of the hall stood Naomi with her dark eyes, 
laughing and clapping her hands. But without fell the cold 
sleet, and a gray mist cast its damp mantle on “ the dirty 
lad,” who clung fast to the wet ropes. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


" I will drive over the sea, — 

Over the sea so smooth and white ; 

Fear not, fear not to drive with me, — 

To drive with me this winter night. 

Day upon day the eager frost 
Has built a bridge to bear a host.” 

Christian Winther. 

I T was a severe and a long winter : the ice lay like a firm 
bridge between Zealand and Schonen. The Swedish 
peasant, who is always the first who ventures to make the 
journey over the bridge which has been erected by the cold, 
drove in his sledge toward Denmark ; and people drove cattle 
for slaughter across the ice, although it was asserted that the 
passage over the channel where the stream ran was by no 
means without danger. Between Copenhagen and the battery 
of the Three Crowns, which lies at the distance of about two 
miles, there extended itself a broad road made dirty by traffic, 
and on either side wound the track of the foot-passengers. 
Where only a few weeks before three-masted vessels had 
rocked themselves in security on the water, now sat old 
women with tables spread, and offered bread and drinkables 
at a cheap rate. Here also stood tents, upon which the 
Danish flag floated in the blue, frosty air, and through the 
whole day it was one swarm of human beings. Ships, great 
ships, lay firmly walled in the ice like wrecks run aground. 
Along the Swedish coast, as far as the eye could reach, were 
seen moving, one by one, black specks, — people on foot and 
people in carriages, who were visiting the neighbor country. 

Such a broad market-place, several miles in extent on the 
fields of ice and snow, has a something in it very imposing, 
if one reflects on what an abyss gapes under it, and that a 
storm and the altered direction of the current might destroy 
8 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


II4 

the ice-covering in a few minutes. But as the vine-dresser 
plants his vines in the hot lava-soil, and sleeps himself un- 
fearingly on the margin of the abyss, so drives the peasant 
forth over the ice, consoled by the reflection that his life is in 
God’s hand. 

We know that Peter Vieck’s deceased wife was a Swede 
out of Malmb, where yet her connections resided. A mariner 
whose vessel lies frozen up has not much to do. As now, 
therefore, the road to Sweden was pretty well trodden, and 
people passed daily across, Peter Vieck determined to pay a 
visit to the relatives of his late wife in Malmo, and that Chris- 
tian should accompany him. 

During the forenoon the weather was favorable for their 
journey. The Sound resembled a snow-plain ; in some 
places the wind had piled up the snow into little hillocks, in 
others the polished ice-surface was visible, which looked like 
inland lakes between mountains. 

Now comes the question,” said Peter Vieck, “whether 
the lid will hold so that we do not plump down into the pot 
where neither sun nor moon shines. But we are children of 
the sea — we shall escape, let it hold or break ! ” 

They had proceeded a few miles from the coast of Zealand 
when a strong wind arose and dark clouds began to ascend ; 
but Peter Vieck was vivacity itself. They met a herd of 
cattle, the driver of which assured them that the ice as yet 
was firm and safe, but that later in the day there would be a 
change in the weather. 

“ Now, that would be capital if it became open sea whilst 
we are over there ! ” said Peter Vieck. “ It may be ; then 
we shall save our feet and come swinging back again. Here 
one goes crawling along like a fly on a sugar-cask.” 

The air became darker and darker ; a few snow-flakes fell 
— our travellers had not yet made half the distance. All at 
once the clouds began to discharge their contents, and a vio- 
lent snow-storm commenced. 

“ Pull your handkerchief over your ears ! ” said Peter Vieck ; 
“ it is only a passing storm.” 

They went forward ; their heads held down in order to de- 
fend themselves against the whirling snow. High above them 
roared the wind like the rushing sails of a mill. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


II5 

“ Now it will, however, soon lay itself ! ’’ said Peter Vieck, 
glancing round in the air and standing for a moment still. At 
that moment there resounded from under his feet a report, as 
if the largest cannon had been fired. 

“ As long as it cracks it will bear,” said he, seized Chris- 
tian’s hand, and sped rapidly forward. “ We must go in a di- 
rect line, and then we shall hit the bridge of boats at Malmo 
to a hair. To-day it foams from above ! ” said he, as he 
blew the snow away from him. Again there was a report 
below them from the strong currents, which made rents in the 
ice, yet without their being visible. “ They are very pretty 
cannon which they have down below there ! ” said Peter 
Vieck ; “ they might as well have celebrated the queen’s birth- 
day with them.” 

For a moment the snow somewhat abated ; but an extraor- 
dinary sobbing sound, which was quite different from that 
which they had heard before, now sounded below them. It 
was as if the locked-up depths were exerting themselves to 
breathe. Peter Vieck stood still, and cast observant glances 
toward the Swedish coast. 

“ We have yet gone scarcely half way across,” said he. “ I 
fancy that we shall do best to-day to leave Sweden to itself.” 
He stood again still and considered. 

As a sailor, it was clear to him that, however strong the ice 
might be, yet that with the altered current and the wind in the 
southeast, as it now was, it must within a few hours break up 
and be driven toward the north. An occurrence of this kind 
is one of the most imposing natural scenes which our country 
affords. The strength of the ice in combat with the strength 
of the currents produces great effect, more especially at Hel- 
singor, where the Sound is only a few miles across. Immense 
masses of ice press themselves together, the stream lifts them 
aloft, and, firmly riveted together, the floating glass-like rocks 
pile themselves one upon another in all kinds of grotesque 
shapes. The whole Sound at that time resembles a floating 
glacier. 

Yet there were as yet no visible traces of such a scene : the 
signal for it had been given ; the submarine war-horse had 
consecrated to death all wanderers above him. Again the 


ii6 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


snow fell. Peter Vieck turned round, and now they went on 
quicker than before, for wind and snow were no longer against 
them. All at once there sounded close behind them a feeble 
but thrilling cry of anguish ; he looked round him, and only 
just in lime to escape being run over by a light sledge, in 
which four persons were seated, who w'ere posting on at full 
speed in the direction of the Sound between both countries. 
Peter Vieck shouted “ Holla ! ” to which a return was made, 
and the sledge drew up. 

A Danish gentleman, who seemed to be of rank, sat with 
his servant on the front seat ; two ladies, the one elderly the 
other quite young, occupied the principal seat in the sledge. 
The younger wept aloud, the- other wrapped herself closely in 
her cloak. 

“ How far do you suppose us to be from the coast of Zea- 
land.?” asked the gentleman. 

“ Ten or twelve miles,” replied Peter Vieck. But if the 
gentleman drives in that direction it will take a long time 
before he reaches land. That direction goes directly to 
Prussia. Here lies Sweden, there Zealand ! ” said he, point- 
ing right and left from the sledge. 

“ Are you sure of that .? ” asked the gentleman. 

“I have the compass in my head,” answered Peter Vieck. 

“ The cursed weather ! ” said the stranger. “ The air was 
quite clear when we drove from Sweden ! We are certainly 
below Hveen ? ” 

“ No,” replied Peter Vieck ; “it is higher up. Will you 
permit me to be your helmsman ? And it will not do either 
to go driving on at a gallop ; there might easily come a little 
crack in the way.” 

“ Dear captain, is it you ? ” asked the old lady ; “ do you 
think that we shall get alive to land ? ” 

Peter Vieck looked at her ; she indeed knew him. “ O 
yes, gracious lady,” said he , “ people do not go down so 
easily : if people only use their eyes there is no danger. Now, 
also, it begins to clear up.” 

The lady sighed deeply. It was the w^ell-known gouvem- 
ante, who sailed with him to Copenhagen. He seized the 
reins, the servant dismounted, and Christian took his place. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


II7 

The stranger gentleman was a man of about thirty years ; his 
whole behavior showed that he belonged to the higher ranks. 
Two days before he had driven with his foster-daughter (so he 
called the young lady) and her governess over to Schonen, 
when the ice was strong and firm. To-day they were about 
to return, when the weather suddenly changed, and in the 
snow-storm they had lost their direction and were driving 
toward Amack instead of Hveen. 

Now again the train set itself in motion. 

Again there resounded once more that thrilling, sobbing 
sound below them ; the covering of ice raised itself slowly up, 
and then slowly sank down again. The horses stood still* 
Christian prayed to God. 

“We are in God’s hand,” said Peter Vieck. The young 
girl threw her arm around her foster-father, and clung convul- 
sively to him. 

“It is, perhaps, the best for me to dismount,” said the 
gentleman. 

“ Ah, no ! ” besought the daughter ; “ we should die ! the 
ice would break under us ! ” She tore open her cloak ; pale 
as death, she stared wildly forth ; her raven hair slid over her 
pale cheeks. Christian looked at her : it was indeed Naomi, 
but he did not venture to speak her name ; the surprise made 
him forget the danger. 

Now again bright patches showed themselves in the gray 
sky ; but behind them, at scarcely a hundred paces’ distance, 
ascended a dark stripe with every kind of strange branching, 
which extended itself out on all sides. There resounded once 
more, every now and then, before them, a loud lamenting cry, 
which seemed to proceed neither from out of the sea nor yet 
out of the air. People talk a great deal about the sea-cow, 
which sometimes raises itself with its forefeet out of the water, 
and sends forth that longing cry in the direction of the land 
where the animals nearly akin to it graze, and to which it 
cannot come. 

“ What is that ? ” said the strange gentleman, as he gazed 
keenly into the distance. Peter Vieck was silent. 

The ice heaved itself up again, and the snow assumed al- 
ready here and there a grayish color from the sea-water which 
broke through. 


ii8 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


« What is that directly before us ? ” asked Peter Vieck, as 
he turned the horse about. A stake stood up in the ice. 
“ Here, certainly,” said he, “ have the fishermen cut an open- 
ing, for that seems to me like a warning signal.” 

“ It appears to me as if I saw a house,” said the servant. 

“ We cannot here be upon land,” replied Peter Vieck, half 
aloud. 

“ Holla ! ” shouted a voice just before them, and again they 
heard that cry of distress which they had perceived once 
already. 

Not far from the spot where they had halted there stood a 
wooden house, which was half buried in snow. Here had the 
herdsman stopped with his young cattle, which now bellowed 
in the cold air. 

“ What sort of an ark is it that you have set up here ? ” 
asked Peter Vieck ; “ are you going to rest here } ” 

“ Yes,” replied the cattle-driver ; “ that is the wisest thing 
we can do. Here one has land under foot, and the dear God 
above to watch over us. The best the gentlefolks could do 
would be to remain here. There, indeed, lies the farm.” 

With these words he pointed to a building at only a few 
paces’ distance, which resembled a peasant’s house. 

They were upon that little flat island called Saltholm, of 
which, in winter, only the highest point stands above water ; 
and which, on account of the excellent hare-hunting, is indus- 
triously visited by sportsmen. In summer, on the contrary, 
this little island furnishes good pasturage, on which account 
the people of Amack drive thither their cattle. During the 
war-time there stood there a small building, which within late 
years has been increased to a very respectable peasant’s farm, 
and is inhabited by an entire family. 

The herdsman told them of a man who had lived there 
through the winter, as watch of the island, but now he w^as not 
to be seen. Probably he was gone to Amack or Sweden, and 
had not returned early enough. The house was empty. 

Our little caravan halted ; the forsaken island was to them 
a haven of salvation from certain destruction. 

Four naked walls, shining with frozen damp, were all that 
the interior of the house presented. The dwelling-room 


OlVL Y A FIDDLER / 


II9 

served also as kitchen. In one corner there stood upon the 
paved floor a miserable unmade bed, which they soon pul 
away. The room, however repulsive it was, contained a good 
stock of turf, and Peter Vieck lost no time in making a fire. 
The cushions of the sledge, which were brought in, made an 
excellent divan. 

Thus w'as this room not at all unlike a solitary relais^ in 
which the travellers over the Simplon find a refuge from 
snow-storms and tempests. The cold was severe enough for 
them to imagine themselves on the tops of the mountains ; 
and if the travellers cast a glance through the window, they 
saw the gray snowy air upon the moving ice-masses, which in 
strange irregular shapes glided down the stream, and all 
these resembled the masses of cloud which float along on the 
mountains. 

“ I should never have thought,” said Peter Vieck, jestingly, 
“ that I should have met with an adventure between Zealand 
and Schonen, like Albertus Julius ! Does the gentleman 
know the book ? It is entitled • The Wonderful Fates of vari- 
ous Mariners.’ I have it in my cabin. Here one cannot die 
of hunger, so long as there are here cows and calves ; nor 
perish of thirst either, while the snow lies some ells thick. 
There will either be open sea, and then ships will come by, 
or else the broken bridge will freeze together again, so that 
we can drive over it to Amack, and can then get vegetables 
for our soup, which here we must do without.” 

The stranger gentleman — the Count, as the gouvernante 
called him — appeared to be as merry as the lively seaman ; 
and the gouvernante busied herself as much as any of the 
rest, in making everything as comfortable as possible. They 
found two old jugs upon a shelf, which she cleaned in the 
snow ; and these then were used as milking-pail and cooking- 
vessel. The herdsman brought in fresh milk, and cold meat 
and two bottles of wine w'ere fetched out of the sledge. The 
fire blazed and diffused warmth, whilst the window rattled 
with the wind, and the snow drove in in its circling flight. 

Christian was most zealous to lend a helping hand ; he 
wrapped Naomi, who had not perfectly recovered from her 
late terror, warmer in cloaks and in the covering of the 


120 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


sledge. She sat there like a marble image, and fixed upon 
him her large beautiful eyes, which showed that the strongest 
fire may be black. 

Peter Vieck crouched before the chimney, and nodded to 
the gouvernante with a friendly look as to an old acquaint- 
ance. 

“ We are better off now,” said he, than we were when we 
were last together on the sea, even though we had then real 
water under us. At that time Mamsell looked quite wretched 
in comparison to what she does now. We are better off! 
Least of all did I ever think that we should so soon again 
meet one another upon the sea.” 

“On land we are not, however, so very far asunder,” re- 
plied she j “ your vessel lies exactly opposite to our window. 
I see you almost every morning walking on deck, and in the 
evening I hear your violin.” 

“ So then we are neighbors, are we, in the harbor ? ” said 
Peter Vieck. 

“ Is it your violin that I have heard ? ” said the Count. 
“ You are indeed a most original performer ; they seem to be 
fantasies that you play. I have been several times your silent 
auditor.” 

“ Yes, it is my fiddle that you have heard,” replied Peter 
Vieck ; “ but with the playing of fantasies have I nothing to 
do. It is that young fellow there that you have heard. He 
does not know any one piece regularly ; he runs from one 
into another. It is what I call a Saturday evening dish, 
which is made up of the fragments of the rest of the week. 

“ Is it he ? ” said the Count, and gazed on Christian at the 
same time with a sort of interest. “There is genius in his 
performance. You should have chosen the musical profes- 
sion, my boy,” said he, addressing him ; “ and then, perhaps, 
you might have made your fortune.” 

“ Yes, perhaps,” said Peter Vieck ; “but you see, sir, when 
one has only salt and bread in the house, it avails nothing 
that one beats one’s brains about what roast tastes the best.” 
And then he related in his own way how the boy had come 
into his service. 

“ You are really a little adventurer 1 ” said the Count laugh- 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


I2I 


ing, and nodded kindly to Christian at the same time. Chris- 
tian’s heart beat quicker as the strange, elegant-looking 
gentleman gazed at him so searchingly ; but although the 
conversation was about himself, he did not dare even to 
answer one single word. If Naomi would only have said, I 
know him ; we two have played with one another ! ” but she 
remained silent, and looked at him with her black eyes; 

The supper that they partook was, according to Peter 
Vieck’s opinion, a veritable Michaelmas festival. 

The sun descended, and gilded with its red beams the 
edges of the rent clouds. The view across the Sound had in 
it something out of the common way. On the side of Zealand, 
the entire white ice-surface was broken up, and that in the 
most various directions. The appearance was that of an 
unpainted map, on which the rivers, the mountains, and the 
political boundaries, are only indicated by black lines ; an 
extraordinary cracking and a faint movement indicated a 
change, like that which had already taken place on the Swed- 
ish coast. Great blocks of ice were here pressed together, 
which formed themselves to monstrous glaciers, and then 
began, upon the green heaving sea, their journey into the 
Northern Ocean. 

The icy covering also between Saltholm and Amack rent 
itself away, and drove out into the current. 

“ There is an animal upon it ! ” cried Naomi. 

It was a poor hare. Distressed, it stood upon the edge of 
the ice-island, as if it would measure the distance which sep- 
arated it from the firm land. But farther and farther it was 
carried from the shore ; it was its death-ship upon which it 
was sailing. 

“ How it leaps in order to reach the land ! ” said Naomi : 
“ how droll it is to see it ! ” In safety herself, she smiled at 
the danger of the poor creature, like the Spanish lady who 
leans over the balustrade of the arena. 

In the house, in the mean time, everything was arranged in 
the best manner for the night. Naomi and the gouvernante 
had each of them a cushion for a bed. The men were obliged 
to be contented with things as they could get them. The 
herdsman remained outside, where he bedded himself warmly 


122 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


among his cows, and drawing his cap over his eyes dreamed 
royally, like Pharaoh, about fat and lean kine. The Count 
returned from an evening ramble. All were soon asleep, 
excepting Christian, whose duty it was to mind the fire that it 
might not go out. 

Will not you also go to sleep, my boy ” asked the 
Count. 

“ I cannot,” replied he, still gazing fixedly at the pictures 
which his fancy created for him out of the hot ashes. Thus 
had the house burned, when Naomi was carried out of the 
window ! Thus had the poplar and the stork’s nest blazed 
on that night ! He remembered still every circumstance, as 
if it had happened only yesterday ; and Naomi had so entirely 
forgotten the whole ! She had not betrayed by a single word 
that they were known to each other ! And yet their eyes met 
again, as at the time when they had played together. “ Dost 
thou no longer know me ? ” he would have said, as she bade 
him good-night, but the words died upon his lips. And yet 
she knew him ; her thoughts had -dwelt upon all the little 
occurrences which he so vividly recalled ! She remembered 
very well that they had sat by one another upon the tall stone 
steps, and that he had brought to her there leaves and flowers, 
and had kissed her mouth and cheeks. But now he was a 
poor sailor-boy. 

The Count drew nearer to him. 

“ And so, then, it is you who, in an evening, play in the 
dark cabin ! Which do you like best, sea-service or music ? ” 
Music,” replied Christian, with sparkling eyes. 

‘‘Very good ! And if you are possessed of genius you will 
work yourself upward. Do not grieve that you are a poor 
boy ! — most great artists have been so too ! But do not 
become proud when you may, perhaps, ascend up to their 
height. AVhen thousands applaud you, you may easily be- 
come intoxicated. Certainly ! ” added he then, in a graver 
tone, “ a man must be possessed of great genius in order to 
raise himself out of the condition of poverty to honor and 
renown, and he has also much to learn.” 

“ Ah, I would do everything ! ” exclaimed Christian ; 
“ everything which might be required from me ! ” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


123 

The conversation seemed to amuse the Count. He told 
Christian about distinguished artists ; how hard their lot had 
often been, and how so many of them had never been happy 
in their life, and had never had the pleasure of seeing their 
talents acknowledged. Christian listened, and it seemed to 
him as if his own fate stood before his eyes. 

“ Ah, dear sir,” said he, and the tears came into his eyes, 
“ I have nobody in the whole city who can help me. Yet 
how gladly would I learn music ! O, I would think night and 
day upon that which people would tell me ! ” And he related 
to the Count about his home, and described to him his wholly 
helpless condition. 

The Count looked compassionately on him, and Christian 
pressed the hand of the kind gentleman to his lips, wetted it 
with his tears, and besought him to let him be his servant. 
He would clean his boots and shoes, run errands for him, or 
whatever else it might be, if he would only assist him, so that 
he might be able to learn what was necessary, that, at length, 
he might become such ah artist as those of whom he had told 
him. 

“ Yet, my good youth,” said the Count, “ that is not so easy 
as you fancy it to be. Besides this, you must also be pos- 
sessed of a great deal of genius ; and whether that is the case 
or no, time can only prove. You must never forget that 
YOU ARE A POOR CHILD ! If you are possessed of real genius 
it will make for itself a track, though you may have to buffet 
about on the sea for yet another long year. Per asp era ad 
astral Adversity purifies. If it be so that anything is to 
come out of you, a higher Power will help you ; that you may 
of a surety believe ! I, alas ! can do nothing for you ; I have 
so many others to care for.” 

With these words he drew out his purse and gave the boy 
a silver dollar, repeating at the same time the consoling assur- 
ance that real talent always made for itself a way. He then 
folded his cloak more closely about him, and leaned his head 
on the wall in order to sleep. 

Those were Icarus-wings which he fixed upon the shoulders 
of Genius — boldly formed wings ; but they were of lead. 
His words, however, were the old theme, which from genera- 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


124 

tion to generation has sounded in the ears of Genius, and 
which will yet, for centuries to come, be variously sounded as 
long as the world remains the same as that which gave the 
poison-cup to Socrates and to Christ the crown of thorns. 

It was not until toward morning that Christian fell into a 
sleep, but Peter Vieck soon awoke him again by the an- 
nouncement that the wind had turned about, that the ice was 
again frozen together, and that they must avail themselves of 
the favorable moment to reach the island Amack. The 
sledge was harnessed, and all was put in order for their depart- 
ure. The herdsman drove on his cattle in advance, because 
wherever the heavy-footed animals could go the ice would be 
able to support the light sledge with the gouvernante and 
Naomi. 

The procession set out. The ice cracked around them. 
They were often obliged \o make a circuit, to escape the gap- 
ing chasms ; in other places the water stood upon the ice, and 
this they had to ford. Naomi closed her eyes for terror. 

“ We are sinking ! ” said she to Christian, who was placed 
behind on the sledge. 

“ O no ! God will not permit us to die ! ” replied he. 

The sledge rolled several times here and there ; the ice 
moved up and down, and the horses dashed the water high in 
the air with their hoofs. Naomi seized Christian’s arm and 
endeavored to hold herself firmly against him ; the gouvern- 
ante leaned against the other side of the sledge. At length 
they gained the firmer ice. 

“ Now we are again upon the new road,” said Peter Vieck ; 
“ there will not be an elegy written about us, unless it be that 
which I myself should make ; yet that is not my own handi- 
work. I have only once made an epitaph on a dear friend, 
and that stands in Holm church-yard, and runs shortly thus : — 

“ ‘ 1801, stood he, and remained standing; 

1807, lay he, and remained lying.’ ” 

Dost thou, then, no longer remember me ? ” asked Chris- 
tian of Naomi, as they approached ever nearer to the church 
of Amack, where they would have to separate. 

“ Yes ! ” replied she, in a voice as low as that in which the 


ONL Y A FIDDLER I 1 2 5 

question was asked ; ‘‘thou earnest into the saloon on my 
birthday ! ” 

“ But in Svendborg ? ” asked he again. 

“ Yes, there ! ” said she j “ yes, I remember that very well ; 
that is a long time ago ! ” 

She turned herself quickly to the gouvernante. “ We shall 
now be soon on land ! You do not talk to me ! Ha! how 
cold it is though ! ” She hid her face in her shawl. 

Christian dismounted and walked behind the sledge. With- 
out being able to explain to himself the reason of it, he felt 
himself deeply humiliated. Willingly would he have laid 
himself down to sleep here on the ice, like the Seven Sleepers, 
to slumber for many years. 

They now saw people on the coast, and soon every danger 
and all fear were over. 

They halted. The Count offered Peter Vieck money. 

“ No, sir,” said the captain, “ you were not in my vessel. 
Had there been anything to pay, I and the lad have had its 
worth, in the honor of being in such high company.” 

The gouvernante offered her hand to the lively captain, and 
Naomi followed her example and that of the Count. Chris- 
tian stood silently, with his hat in his hand, and saw his play- 
fellow roll elegantly away into the world. 

“ We travel behind on our boot-soles,” said Peter Vieck. 


CHAPTER XVIIl. 


“ We were children, two small and happy children ; the childish play 
is now over, and all whirls by us.’' — H. Heine. 

I T is only of late years that our eyes have become intimate 
with the beautiful view of the horse in his natural beauty 
upon the race-ground. We have presented to us in this a 
picture of the wild flight of these animals through the deserts. 
One of the most striking descriptions of this creature in his 
natural condition is given us by Washington Irving, in his 
Tour through the Prairies. He leads us through the dark 
primeval forests where wild vines throw themselves from tree 
to tree, and form fences of many miles long ; from these we 
gaze across the immense plains, upon which the grass waves 
like the billows of the sea, and the wild horses career in great 
hordes over the plain with flying manes, fiery eyes, and the 
boldest action. The wish that they should forever remain in 
this condition of wildness forces itself upon the mind. But 
the hunter throws his noose around the proud, fine creature, 
and it lifts itself with its whole strength to tear itself loose ; 
yet the stronger hand holds it fast : the first lash of the whip 
falls upon the back of the captive animal, and, foaming and 
steaming, it strives yet once more with its whole strength to 
release itself : but in vain ! It throws itself as if dead upon 
the earth ; a new blow of the whip falls, patiently it stands 
up, and, bound with cords, follows the pack-horse. The king 
of the desert is now become a slave. 

There is something melancholy in this occurrence. From 
the wild steed of the desert to the miserable beast of burden, 
which crawls wearily along with the peasant’s cart, there is a 
great leap. But yet the race is the same — the most brilliant 
beginning may be followed by such an end. What animal 
has, in the changes of his fate, so much in common with man 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


127 


as the horse ? The most beautiful horse that once bore a 
king, which was caressed by his all-powerful right hand and 
was tended with the utmost care, sank through some little fault 
to be the horse of a soldier, and ended as a wretched hack 
fastened to the cart of the executioner. 

Penetrated by such contemplations, our pensive state of 
feeling is excited almost to mutiny when we go in clear frosty 
weather, and by moonlight, when the earth is covered with 
firm and glittering snow, into the great square in Copenhagen, 
which bears the name of the King’s Market. Round about 
the equestrian statue of the king, where the colossal bronze 
figures are seated, drive along crowds of hired sledges. 
Street-boys and people of the very lowest class pay here their 
penny that they may twice drive round the Horse, as they call 
the monument. These sledges have a wretched appearance, 
but yet much more wretched is the horse that draws them. 
If the hackney-coachman can no longer use his horse to draw 
a heavy carriage, he harnesses it to a sledge, and now the 
whip drives on the half-starved beast, until bathed in sweat it 
returns back and stands in the bitterest cold to rest, until a 
new driver sets it in motion. Not unfrequently it here ends 
its life of torment, and that is certainly the best happiness 
which one can wish for the poor animal. 

It was in the evening when these penny sledges were driv- 
ing about, the bells ringing, the whips cracking, and the cry 
of exultation resounding through the King’s new Market- 
place. Most of the foot-passengers avoided the tumultuous 
pleasures of the people ; only a very few ventured to go 
across the wild course, which run in circles and ellipses 
around the monument. To the last number belonged a gen- 
tleman in a large blue cloak ; it was the Count. He had 
already, without accident, passed several sledges ; but now 
came another, in which sat two sailors and a ship-boy, and 
which drove up directly toward him. He stopped, in order to 
let the wild men drive past him ; the horse came so close 
upon him as to sprinkle him over with its foam ; it then fell 
suddenly to the earth, groaned a few times, opened wide its 
eyes, and lay dead on the spot. People crowded round the 
sledge j the hackney-coachmen came in with their whips. 


128 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


It was Oddity which laid him down there to rest ! ” said 
they ; “ it’s all up with him now.” 

The name “ Oddity ” called a past time back to the Count’s 
remembrance. In lively recollection stood before him the old 
family-seat, where his mother was an enthusiast for the novels 
of LaFontaine. The beautiful foal was therefore called after 
the Oddity, and the young Count received it on his birthday 
as a present. It was a proud, a glorious animal ! When the 
Count rode him through the streets, all the people in Svend- 
borg came to their windows, and horse and rider won equally 
great applause. The handsome Sara, the Jew’s daughter, 
clapped her beautiful hands ; and the animal was very fond of 
the gouvernante — so was she called at the Hall. It neighed 
when it was caressed by her ; but the rider was fonder still of 
the handsome gouvernante, and for that reason she was 
obliged to leave the Hall. That was a very sad history ! 
When the young Count afterward travelled abroad, the fortu- 
nate star of “ Oddity ” began to descend j he was sold at St. 
Knud’s fair. 

Could it, must it not, be the self-same animal which here, 
famished and tortyred to death, lay before him } All these 
thoughts were excited, as by a spark of remembrance, in the 
Count’s soul, at the mention of the horse’s name ! This name 
was the only thing which was remaining to him out of happier 
days. He stayed longer in the crowd than he otherwise 
would have done, and scarcely remarked the misfortune which 
had happened so near to him. The ship-boy who had been 
seated in the sledge had certainly been injured in the fall ; he 
was carried into the house of a surgeon. 

We will leave this cold evening scene, and, with the Count, 
enter his comfortable house, which lies directly opposite to 
Peter Vieck’s ship, with its snow-covered cordage. AVarm air 
laden with perfume streamed out as he entered the room, 
which was illumined with wax-lights in silver candlesticks, and 
the floor of which was covered with soft, elastic carpets. Pic- 
tures by Juul and Gebauer adorned the walls ; two plaster-of- 
Paris figures — the one the “ Dying Gladiator,” the other the 
“ Roman Boy taking a thorn out of his foot ” — stood one on 
each side of the elegant book-case, in which only famous au- 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


129 

thors found place ; that is to say, Goethe, Racine, Swift — not 
a single Danish book. Similar show-libraries we often find 
in the apartments of our so called higher ranks: they are 
meant to indicate taste, yet the first conversation not unfre- 
quently betrays something wholly different. That near to 
them, also, a row of annuals was arranged, did not make the 
most advantageous impression. The entrance into the next 
room was not by a door \ it was hung with curtains in an Orien- 
tal manner, which were drawn aside. This room was smaller ; 
twining plants hung down from the pyramids between the 
damask curtains, and hyacinths of all colors sent forth their 
odor. At the tea-table, at which the gouvernante presided, 
sat Naomi and an elderly gentleman ; it was a chamberlain. 
Thorwaldsen, at that time, had begun to obtain a European 
celebrity ; the chamberlain spoke about him. 

“ I knew him,” said he, “ when I was advanced to Kammer- 
junker ; then he was nobody. But he is possessed of genius, 
and the newspapers speak of him : yes, by Heaven ! I read 
his name in the ‘Journal des Debats!’ The man gets 
célbbre, but to the king’s table he never can come ; he is not 
a states-counselor ! ” 

Upon a side-table lay fine copperplate engravings and 
landscapes ; they were nearly all Italian scenes which the 
Count had visited. 

“ Magnifique ! magnifique ! ” cried the chamberlain. “ That 
is Genoa ! There I was seven-and-twenty years ago. There 
are beautiful ladies there I And in Bologna I Ah yes ! the 
Bolognese ladies are charming ! What eyes ! — 

The gouvernante cast down hers. The chamberlain said, 
half aloud, “ Glorious ladies ! it is for them that we travel in 
foreign countries I ” 

The Count now related how very nearly he had been run 
over this evening, and how a poor lad certainly had met with 
an injury, — “ That little musical genius,” added he. 

“ He has given a concert here, in this house,” said Naomi, 
smiling. “ The servants allowed him to come to them ; he 
played, and the people applauded : but the coachman, Hans, 
was witty, and hung an onion round his neck as an order. 
That he thought was ridiculing him, and the tears came into 
9 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


130 

his eyes. With that came Elise, told the gouvernante, and all 
was restored again to dutiful respect.” 

“ The poor boy ! ” said the Count ; “ now they will take 
him to the hospital.” 

“ That will not be the case, Count,” said the gouvernante, 
“ because I can now hear him playing. It is exactly the same 
music as we are accustomed to hear.” 

A servant was called. 

“ Go and inquire who it is that we hear playing; and ask, 
also, if the little ship-boy received any injury in the sledg- 
ing ? ” 

The servant soon returned with the intelligence that the boy 
had sprained his leg by the overturning of the sledge, but 
was soon again restored, and now waited commands with his 
fiddle before the Count’s door. 

“ Nay, that was not my meaning! ” said the Count. “ It is 
well, however, that he has received no injury.” 

“ Shall we not see the little work of art ? ” said the chamber- 
lain. “ Miss Naomi says, with her beautiful eyes, that she 
will encourage the young artist.” 

The Count smiled, and a moment afterwards, Christian, 
who had modestly taken off his shoes, stood in his stockings, 
holding his fiddle on his back, in the brilliantly lighted apart- 
ment. How warm and fragrant, how rich and glorious, was 
everything which he saw here ! Flowers and Naomi were 
here, as in the Jew’s garden, when he crept in through the 
hole in the wall. She would hear him play ! He trembled 
with delight I 

At that moment an elegant gentleman, of a tall, thin figure, 
and severe bearing, entered the room. He looked down upon 
Christian with a dark expression, as if he would ask, “ What 
has that poor boy to do here ? ” 

“ That is a little musical genius,” said the Count ; and now 
related to the stranger gentleman that which had this evening 
occurred, and the acquaintance with the boy. 

The stranger looked yet more sternly at him, whilst the 
Count cut short the affair by saying that he would hear him 
another time. Again a silver dollar was put into his hand, 
but, only half made happy by it, he left the magnificent apart- 
ment. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


I3I 

The servant led him into the maid servants’ room, and now, 
as yesterday, he must again play before the domestics. All 
kinds of witticisms were passed off against him, but yet his 
vanity was flattered too, and here also he received money. 
Very much pleased, he descended the steps. The grave 
gentleman with the severe countenance met him. 

“ They really are making fun of thee ! ” was all that he said, 
and these words fell like poison into Christian’s cup of joy. 

On board, Peter Vieck received him with a wrathful 
countenance. 

“Where, in the name of all the devils, are you flying 
about ? ” asked he. “ Are you become city musician ? Down 
there below, in the little room, you can fiddle, but not before 
the lick-spittles, else it will go with a puff! Do you under- 
stand Peter Vieck ? ” 

Silent and dejected the boy stole below, down to his little 
cabin. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


Blunt . — Well, is she there ? 

Brand . — The fairy-queen, — yes, truly the fairy-queen.” 

The Suffering Woman, by LiNZ. 

“ Prie ! pour les vierges violees. 

Pour le prisonnier dans sa tour, 

Pour les femmes échevelées 

Qui vendent le doux nom d’amour ! ” 

Victor Hugo. 

E xtremes resemble the points of a circle which lie the 
widest one from another. 

By the grave of one dear to us, we believe most certainly on 
immortality. 

Precisely at the moment when reality laid a destroying hand 
on all Christian’s hopes, his faith grew with every passing day. 
Every artist of whom the Count had told him on Saltholm 
haunted his brain. 

He had this winter read two books, — Albertus Julius and 
tlie Old Testament. Both of them were the words of infallible 
truth, and in both of them was the struggle against difficulties 
rewarded by happy consequences. Albertus Julius found hap- 
piness upon his rocky island ; the biblical history which was, 
indeed, the word of the Lord, gave him the same consolation. 
The shepherd-boy, the poor David, was the king of Israel j 
Job received again his health ; the wicked Haman came to the 
gallows, whilst Esther bore the golden crown on her head by 
the side of her royal lord. 

“ True genius always makes for itself a way ! ” had the 
Count said. “ Good God ! ” prayed Christian, with childish 
mind, “ give to me true genius ! I will only make use of it 
for Thy honor.” 

For hours would he gaze in the star-bright evenings, full of 
devotion and confidence, to the brilliant lights in heaven. The 
astrologers believed that the stars of heaven had an influence 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


133 

upon the fate of men. This faith is now lost, and it is only 
the star upon the human breast which is possessed of such a 
power. Christian hoped for help from both of them, from the 
stars there above and from the star upon the Count’s breast, 
which shone just as splendidly. But, ah ! no help came. 

One evening he sat thus sunk in thought in his dark cabin 
until he slept. He then dreamed of the good lady Steffen-Mar- 
garet, who has been wholly forgotten by us. It seemed to him 
as if she led him by the hand over a dry desert, in which the 
earth was rent into great chasms, so that they were, at every 
step, in danger of falling in. They entered into a beautiful, 
blooming garden, where all was music and pure delight ; and 
she gave him a silver fiddle. As he drew the bow across the 
strings, it overpowered all other instruments ; the loud sound 
seemed to awaken him, and he found consolation and peace 
of mind in his dream. She whose image the Count had dispos- 
sessed, now stood like a good angel before his soul. It is true 
that she had not, like the Count, given him money, but, more 
friendly still, she had extended to him her hand, and had 
looked kindly into his eyes. He was most strangely affected, as 
he heard at that same moment a voice on the cabin steps, which 
was just like hers. She, perhaps, would already present her- 
self as a powerful fairy to conduct him to happiness. He 
would have rushed toward her, but she came not alone ; a 
sailor accompanied her, and inquired aloud, on entering, if 
there were any one there. But a strange feeling of distress 
fettered Christian’s tongue, and he remained silent. 

“ What have you got to say to me 'i ” asked the sailor. 

“ It depends upon you,” replied she, “ whether body and 
soul shall go to eternal perdition.” 

“ Are you all at once become a saint } ” asked the seaman, 
smiling. 

I must tell you everything which I have upon my mind,” 
said she, in a broken voice. Christian listened attentively, 
for now he thought certainly that she was about to speak of, 
himself. 

We will not turn our ear from the conversation of these 
two, who believed themselves to be alone, nor is there any 
need that we should do so. When we see in our garden 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


^34 

walks one of those large frogs of which the repulsive exterior 
is disgusting to us, we draw back with abhorrence from the 
ugly animal; but if this same creature be pursued by an enemy, 
and utters its monotonous cry of distress, our repugnance is 
changed into compassion. How much stronger, then, must this 
sentiment be when the creature is one of our own species! 
Do not turn thine eyes away, because I will not conduct thee 
into a row of dancing odalisks in the shadow of the palm- 
trees, by the swelling shores of the Ganges, to show thee the 
image of such a fellow-being. Do not turn thine eyes away 
because I lead thee into the narrow cabin of a trading-vessel, 
not into the splendid court where counts and dukes long after 
one glance from the royal mistress. It is crime in its lowest 
estate, because poverty is its lot, that I will present to thee. 
Not in gold and silver shalt thou see it, but in its misery ; see 
how it resembles the basilisk, which sees itself in the glass and 
rends every nerve. Most tragical is it to see the human nat- 
ure humiliated to that of the beast, and how it, for the first 
time in its downward course, becomes aware that it was once 
the image of God upon earth. Hail to thee who art possessed 
of a home, who hast never been forsaken by Modesty ! Thus 
happy was not this poor being 1 

What poison can the sweet words of man distill into the 
heart of woman ! Had you, twelve years ago, seen the slen- 
der maiden of sixteen with her eyes beaming with pure life 
enjoyment, you would have thought on Semele — on her who 
waited for Jupiter in all his glory, and when the beloved one 
appeared, not as a sun to warm, but as a consuming fire, she 
became ashes in his arms — the image of beauty was dust 
and earth ! 

We believe no longer in ghosts ; we believe no longer that 
the dead in their white garments appear to the living at the 
hour of midnight. We see them yet in the great cities. By 
moonlight, when the cold north wind passes over the snow, 
and we wrap ourselves closer in our cloaks, we see white-gar- 
mented female beings in light summer-dresses, beckoning, 
float past us. The poisonous atmosphere of the grave breathes 
from these figures : trust not the roses on their cheeks, for the 
death’s head is painted ; their smiles are the smiles of despair 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


135 

or of intoxication. They are dead, are more horribly dead 
than our deceased ones. The soul is interred ; the bodies go 
like evil spirits hither and thither, seeking for human blood 
like the vampire, that they may nourish themselves thereby. 
They therefore hang even upon the poorest man, upon the 
coarsest churl, on those from whom even men draw back. 
They are horrible, unhappy ghosts, which do not descend into 
their graves with the morning twilight. No, for then they are 
followed home by the dreams of despair, which sit like night- 
mares on their breasts, and sing to them of the scorn of men 
and of a better life here on earth — and tears stream down the 
painted cheeks. To chase away the dreams, they seize upon 
the cup, and the poisoned stamp of death stands the next night, 
when they go forth, yet more deeply impressed on their coun- 
tenances. 

“ Save me ! I am yet only half dead ! There are moments 
in which I still feel that I have yet a soul living within me ! ” 
is oftentimes the cry of such an unhappy being; but every 
one flies away horrified who hears the voice out of the grave, 
and she, the half-dead one, has no longer strength to throw 
from her the coffin-lid of her circumstances and the heavy 
earth of sin. 

“ Save me ! ” were also the first words which Christian heard 
from her lips in the cabin ; she whom he had regarded as a 
rich and noble lady, she w’hom we know as one of those night 
wanderers. “ I am sunk in shame ! ” said she. “ No one 
esteems me — I no longer esteem myself ; therefore, save me, 
Soren ! I have honestly divided my money with you ; I yet 
am possessed of forty dollars. Marry me, and take me away 
out of this woe, and out of this misery ! Take me to a place 
where nobody will know me, where you may not be ashamed 
of me ! I will work for you like a slave, till the blood comes 
out at my finger-ends. O take me away with you ! In a 
year’s time it may be too late.” 

“ Should I take you to my old father and mother ? ” said 
the sailor. 

“ I will kiss the dust from their feet ; they may beat me, 
and I will bear it without a murmur — will patiently bear every 
blow ! I am already old, that I know — I shall soon be eight- 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


136 

and-twenty : but it is an act of mercy which I beseech from 
you. If you will not do it, nobody else will ; and then I must 
drink, drink so much till my brain reels, and I thus forget how 
unfortunate I have made myself ! ” 

“ Is that the very important thing that you have got to tell 
me ? ” remarked the sailor, with a cold indifference. 

Her tears, her sighs, and her words of despair sunk deep 
into Christian’s heart. A visionary image vanished, and with 
its vanishing he saw the dark side of a naked reality. 

He found himself again alone. 

A few days after this the ice had to be hewn away from the 
xiiannel. Christian and the sailor struck their ax.es deeply 
into the firm ice, so that it broke into great pieces. Something 
white hung fast to the ice in the opening ; the sailor enlarged 
the opening, and then a female corpse presented itself, dressed 
in white as for a ball. She had amber beads round her neck, 
gold ear-rings, and she held her hands closely folded against 
her breast as if for prayer. It was Steffen-Margaret. 

Christian could not forget the sight ; it was the last picture 
to the history of that evening in the cabin. What had not 
his godfather taught him the last time that they were together 
in Svendborg ! “ Enjoy the pleasures of life whilst you can 

do so, that you may not have to weep when your head is gray 
because you have no sins ! Better is it to have enjoyed life 
too much, than afterward to sigh in solitude because one has 
not enjoyed whilst one was able to do so.” 

He now understood the demon-like sentiment of these 
words, attached himself more closely to his God, and prayed 
“ Deliver us from evil ! ” 

On the evening after her visit to the sailor she had thrown 
herself under the ice, in the opening made around the ship. 
The consuming fire of despair which burned in her bosom 
had been extinguished by the cold flood. 

Christian no longer put confidence in his dreams, because 
the world had no fairies, as in his fairy-tales. 


CHAPTER XX. 


** Farewell ! a wanderer forth am I ! 

Ah, in vain ! the curtain doth not stir I 
She sleeps, she dreams, my image in her eye.” 

H. Heine. 

T he light breaks through the thick leaves of the flower in 
all colors which we know, now red, now blue, and now 
in other shades. With equal power shines God in all things 
which are created ; like light into the flower beams His Al- 
mighty power from the whole creation. The whole is a mirac- 
ulous work like each single portion, but we are accustomed 
to it, and therefore we find it quite common. Imaginary 
stories are only unnatural from the breaking of the thread, 
from the want of that wise arrangement which we have daily 
before our eyes in the great divine story in which we ourselves 
live and act, 

“ It does not go on here in the world as it does in the tales 
which people have told one ! ” sighed Christian. “ Here there 
are no powerful fairies 1 ” 

But here there is a God, who is more powerful than all fairies. 
Everything which surrounds us testifies of His wisdom, — 
that which dwells within us of His goodness. 

“ In about fourteen days,” said Peter Vieck, “ we will again 
get the Lucie under way ! She has enjoyed winter pleasure 
enough in Copenhagen ! ” 

They were to make the voyage back to Svendborg ; it was 
now the first of March. Christian felt himself troubled at the 
thought of home ; the remembrance of it was always to him 
as if he had had a hateful dream. He thought that he must 
remain in Copenhagen ; he believed that here fortune at length 
would be favorable to him. 

“ If I were to get on shore and into the crowd in the 
streets, how could they ever find me ? I must do so on the 


ONLY A FIDDLER 


138 

day before we sail, and then they will not have time to seek 
after me. But then, who will there be to care for me ? Yet 
people will not let me die of hunger if I am quite forlorn, and 
that the dear God will not wholly permit ! ” 

Whilst this idea was maturing itself more and more in his 
soul, he felt at the same time gnawing pangs of conscience on 
account of the ingratitude which, by this conduct, he should 
show toward Peter Vieck, who had been always so kind and 
friendly toward him. This feeling of guilt urged him to be 
still more zealous in his service in order to please him. 

“ Perhaps the Count only waits for my taking such a step,’ 
thought he to himself, that he may convince himself how 
great is my desire for music ! If I only take it, then he will 
help me.” This thought was a weighty and conclusive argu- 
ment, and thus at length he was satisfied with his resolve of 
leaving the ship the night before they set sail, and of resign- 
ing all the rest into the hands of the dear God. 

The last afternoon was now come in which the ship had yet 
to lie in harbor. Christian stood by the anchor and looked 
toward the house in which Naomi lived. The most beautiful 
spring flowers filled the windows. The magnificent growth of 
South Africa could not appear in a richer variety of coloring 
than did these flowers to our little seaman. In the midst of his 
poverty, on the eve of becoming even yet more forlorn than he 
already was, he yet dreamed of the splendor with which he was 
to decorate his castle when he had become rich ; how it 
should all be, like that before him, adorned with beautiful 
flowers; and Naomi, in gold and silk, should adorn the glory 
of all. He then again thought on Peter Vieck, and that this 
was the last evening on which they were to be together. This 
thought lay like a stone upon his heart. 

“ Is it with you as it is with the hens, that you have got the 
pip ? ” asked Peter Vieck ; “ you will soon now get back to 
Svendborg, and Lucie will receive you joyfully. You may 
well be fond of her.” 

“ Yes, very well ! ” said Christian, and the state of excite- 
ment in which he was filled his eyes with tears. 

“ What the devil are you now crying again about ? ” asked 
Peter Vieck in amazement. “ You have at last shipped salt- 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


139 

water ; I cannot have you with me on board, — I have often 
enough thought so.” 

Christian became burning hot. To be sure he was thinking 
about leaving Peter Vieck, but that Peter should withdraw 
his hand from him was an idea that had never occurred to 
him. Peter Vieck’s words, therefore, extremely shocked him. 

“ I am not going to throw you overboard,” said Peter 
Vieck, drawing the boy kindly toward him ; “ you are a good 
youth ; I have a great affection for you ; but for the sea you 
are good for nothing, — that I have seen long enough.” 

Christian wished that he was able to contradict the captain. 

“ Now, properly, you ought to have a good trimming,” con- 
tinued Peter Vieck ; “ for I have very well deserved that you 
should have told me what you had in your mind. I have 
long wished to talk with you about it, but something or other 
always came in the way. Now you shall get as good as you 
deserve.” 

Did Peter Vieck know all ? did he know that Christian had 
the intention of leaving the vessel this night? The sinner 
with the heavy conscience cast down his eyes. 

“ That night when we were set fast on Saltholm,” continued 
Peter Vieck, “ when you sat musing over the fire and talked 
with the Count about what sort of a fine fellow you would 
like to be, Peter Vieck was not asleep, although he lay with 
his eyes closed. I heard also all the stuff that he crammed 
your head with, and which you were foolish enough to believe. 
I heard also how you made your confession, and at last how 
you supplicated. That was downright simple of you, but at 
that time I determined to release you. I cannot make use of 
you, yet I will not therefore let you drive before the stream. 
Neither shall you go to your parents — that’s true. I will put 
you as an apprentice to Mr. Knepus in Odense : he is a man 
who understands music, and from him you will learn what is 
right. Then we shall see what you are good for.” 

Christian pressed his hand. 

If you only will not grow melancholy ! ” said Peter Vieck. 
“ If anything good comes out of you, it will heartily please me, 
but as a sailor you are good for nothing.” 

Christian was ready to cry when he thought on that which he 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


140 

had been about to do this very night; it lay heavy on his 
heart, but he did not dare to confess his fault. He was to 
learn music, to live for music ! His highest wish was fulfilled, 
and the help came from Peter Vieck, from him to whom he 
had never expressed it ! He kneeled down in the dark cor- 
ner of the cabin and thanked the dear, good God for his 
happiness. 

At break of day the cable rolled along the bulwarks, and the 
Lucie was got out of the harbor. Christian glanced up joy- 
fully, and yet pensively, toward Naomi’s windows. “ To-day 
up there they will talk about nothing else than that we are no 
longer lying in harbor,” thought he. “ Poor Steffen-Marga- 
ret, who would so willingly have sailed with us ! ” 

The ship glided slowly out of the harbor. 

“ Our captain has sailed,” said the gouvernante, as she 
looked out of the window. “ There lies another vessel in his 
place, a ship from Bornholm with clocks.” 

“That is very good,” answered Naomi; “then the ship- 
boy is away also. He was so troublesome and conceited ! I 
saw him as a child ; his parents lived near us, and one day he 
played with me. That is now many years ago, and yet he 
rushed directly into our room. I fancy, certainly, that he is 
not quite right in his head. You cannot think how he tor- 
mented me on the drive over the ice ! it really grieved me that 
I was obliged to seem so unkind to him, but I could not do 
otherwise.” 

“ It would be, however, very interesting if he really did 
possess a great talent for music, and found an opportunity of 
cultivating it,” said the gouvernante. “ Klaus Schall, who 
composed the beautiful music to ‘ Bluebeard,’ was a poor boy 
when he got a place in the dancing-school at the theatre ; he 
thus became a dancer, and is now one of the most celebrated 
composers.” 

“ That sounds just like a novel,” said Naomi ; “ but I like 
it a deal better when the heroes at the end of the story 
remain unfortunate : that is much more interesting ! ” 


CHAPTER XXL 


“ Be it not beautiful, it certainly is true.” — Wessel. 

W E must now betake ourselves to Odense, the capital of 
Funen, which at that time had a much stronger charac- 
ter of simplicity than now. There were here in those days many 
old houses with thick walls ; bass-reliefs above the windows, 
massy balustrades to the steps, which were furnished with 
clumsy copper roofs nailed fast to the walls. Upon one 
house were to be seen the twelve apostles carved in wood ; 
on another, characteristic heads with outstretched tongues, 
which terminated the timbers. On the contrary, the city at 
that time wanted that excellent means of preventing the re- 
turn of the dead, and securing themselves from hobgoblins, 
which was reserved for the discovery of a later time. Now- 
adays, if one goes into the burial-ground of St. Knud’s 
Church, one cannot truly exclaim with the poet, — 

“ The grass waves lightly o’er these graves,” — 
because all the graves here are flagged, — flagged as com- 
pletely as the streets of the city. The survivors, who retain 
a careful memory of their dead, weed out every blade of 
grass which makes its appearance between the well-laid stones. 

As before said, Odense was not possessed of this remarka- 
ble feature in the year i8i6, when we visited the city in the 
company of Christian ; the old appearance of things was as 
yet unchanged. The old antique balconies looked quite ro- 
mantic with their citizen ladies ; the guilds, when they changed 
their herbergs, had their shields borne in procession through 
the city, with a harlequin at their head ; and on Easter morn- 
ing the people went still upon the Nuns’ Hill to see the sun 
dance, because Christ had arisen from the grave. It almost 
always happened, to be sure, that then a cloud covered the 
sun and the dancing was not to be seen, yet every one be- 
lieved in his heart that it had danced behind the cloud. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


142 

One of the smallest churches in Odense was that of St. 
John, and yet this is the one of which the people say that the 
sibyl who visited King Solomon prophesied that it would 
sometime sink when it was filled with people. A gallery con- 
nects the church with the castle, to the garden of which the 
church-yard adjoins ; close beside the latter lie several houses, 
in one of which dwelt Mr. Knepus. 

A reddish-brown suit, consisting of breeches, waistcoat, and 
coat, with great metal buttons, was his every-day apparel ; to 
which a wig with a pig-tail, a little three-cornered hat, and a 
walking-stick with a magnificent head of amber, furnished 
the ornamental part. Odense possessed at that time many 
examples of this kind of original figures belonging to a by- 
gone century. Mr. Knepus did not permit his clothes to be 
purified by beating and brushing — they suffered enough 
without that, said he ; and the first visit made us acquainted 
with his appearance in this respect. 

It was in the last days of April when Christian, with his 
little bundle under his arm, and the letter of introduction 
from Peter Vieck in his hand, stood upon two stone steps 
and knocked with the iron knocker upon the ever closed 
door. 

A thin lady, with fluttering and somewhat dirty cap-ribbons, 
opened the door. That was Mrs. Knepus. 

“You are, probably, Mr. Peter Vieck’s foster-son?” said 
she, welcoming him, pressed his hand, and conducted him 
amid a torrent of words through the long passage, which was 
not very cleanly swept, but which yet was strewn with fresh 
sand. Two old grave-stones, which, on the breaking up of 
the church of the Grey Brothers, had been purchased together 
with several monumental tablets, ornamented the naked walls, 
and one did not rightly know whether here one was in a 
chapel or in a dwelling-house. 

“ We lead a very quiet life here,” said the lady ; “ the 
shooting-club and the king’s birthday are the only two festi- 
vals in which Knepus takes any part. He amuses himself, 
as you will see, in his own way.” 

With this the man himself made his appearance. He wore 
a dirty, yellow night-cap on his bald, pointed head, and a 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 


143 

somewhat narrow overcoat, which did the duty of a sleeping 
coat, for it was bound round the waist with a leathern belt. 
A pair of drawers completed the whole costume of the shriv- 
eled legs. 

The married couple made use of the pronoun you in ad- 
dressing each other. 

Mrs. Knepus had prepared the garret which looked toward 
the castle-garden for Christian. To be sure this was the 
library and the store-room of the house ; but people must 
manage as well as they could, and it would not do to bring 
him down into the lower story, where the lady herself slept. 
He, therefore, must have one of the garrets, whilst Mr. Kne- 
pus himself had the other. 

Already at eight o’clock, seeing it was yet winter, Mr. Kne- 
pus went to bed in order to be up early in the morning. 
Mrs. Knepus and the maid-servant were a quarter of an hour 
later. Christian, so early as the first evening, was initiated 
into the peculiarities of the family. 

The walls of one room were pasted over with caricatures, 
and round about hung all kinds of instruments. Upon a 
shelf playthings were hung ; but the child for which these 
were intended, Mr. Knepus himself, lay in bed. Upon a 
table before him steamed a spirit lamp, with a little punch- 
bowl. The child, from time to time, took a draught and 
looked through a perspective-glass. The servant changed 
the pictures when Mr. Knepus nodded with his head, and 
his wife read aloud to him in one of the German classics. 
These Mr. Knepus called his “ childish hours,” and he had 
them every evening. As soon as he sunk his head weariedly 
upon the pillow, and returned no answer to the question of 
his wife, “ Art thou sleeping, my little lamb ? ” she and the 
servant glided softly out of the room, and were their own 
masters. 

Thus also now lay Mr. Knepus in his bed, and as the 
company this evening was so numerous, he proposed a game 
at forfeits, in which he in bed, and the rest out of it, could 
take part ; and which, according to his opinion, must be 
uncommonly amusing. Christian was sentenced to give Mrs. 
Knepus a kiss under the great carpet, which her husband 


144 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


threw over her. The good Christian closed his eyes and 
commended himself to God. At length he received a glass 
of punch, and in the end went to his room in the most cheer- 
ful state of mind. His chamber was a low little room under 
the steep roof, which, yet well furnished, strongly reminded 
him of Peter Vieck’s cabin. The greater part of the room 
was occupied as a great repository, in which were arranged 
the collected works of Wieland, Schulzen’s Handbook of 
Medicine,” and the remainder entirely musical works. An 
ancient grave-stone, that had its origin also in the now disap- 
peared convent of the Grey Brothers, stood with all its saintly 
images at the foot of his somewhat short bedstead, composed 
of an old arm-chair and a kneading-trough. Behind the 
grave-stone hung a smoked salmon and several pounds of 
candles ; just beside stood a butter-cask : two chairs and a 
table completed the whole of his chamber furniture. 

“ Now I have arranged everything quite conveniently,” said 
Mrs. Knepus, as she conducted the young inmate to his cham- 
ber. “ In the table-drawer you can keep your clean linen ; and 
here,, under your bed, is a knapsack in which you can put 
your dirty things ; because order must rule in everything. 
Mr. Knepus goes, to be sure, always below to the pump to 
wash himself ; but a young man like you shall have every- 
thing as it ought to be. Here you have a beer-bottle with 
water ; you can, perhaps, pour the water over your hands out 
of the window when you wash yourself : when opportunity 
occurs we will buy a wash-basin. Our looking-glasses are too 
big for this roorh ; you must manage with this box — there is 
a very pretty looking-glass in the lid. About six your coffee 
will be sent to you in bed ; you must not get up earlier.” 

Christian was now alone in his new home : he felt himself 
tranquil, and was happy to be now on the way to his fortune. 
He opened his window, and looked in the clear moonlight 
over the little court in the castle-garden. Between the thick 
old trees there lay a green lawn, amid which was a little lake. 
Two swans floated upon the water and bowed their long necks 
over their backs. All was solemnly still ; the moon shone 
upon the little lake in which the swans floated. Christian 
looked at them, he thought of all that he had lived through, 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


145 

and the world appeared to be all at once like an entire ro- 
mance ; the swans upon the water were the fairies of the soli- 
tude. who knew of his happiness and of his gratitude. 

From the following morning Christian’s time was divided in 
the very wisest manner. Out of the house he was to enjoy 
the usual school instruction, in common with several other 
boys ; but at home he studied Turk’s “ Short Advice to the 
Thorough-bass player.” “ Order must rule in everything,” said 
Mr. Knepus, and, according to his notion, order governed 
his whole house. He went only at certain hours to his be- 
loved helpmate, and then she was always knitting, spinning, 
or sewing very industriously, that is to say, as long as he was 
there ; as soon, however, as the few minutes of his visit were 
past, the needle rested, so did the knitting and spinning. A 
poor woman prepared the yarn which Mrs. Knepus exhibited 
as her house industry ; but why should not poverty enjoy the 
advantage ? Why should she make her own life so miserable ? 
She then read romances out of the two circulating libraries of 
the city, and followed the advance of literature as well as she 
could in a provincial town. 

Christian was now in full activity ; and it was part of his 
duty also to attend his principal when he went out a-fishing, 
and be helpful to his wife to lay straws before the door. If 
the lady saw afterward that the straws were disarranged, then 
she knew that her maid-servant had been to the dance. Up 
in her own chamber she had an old piano-forte, on the inner 
side of whose lid were pasted pictures of shepherds and 
shepherdesses that danced to the sound of flutes and shawms. 
Ah, how gladly would he have played, only with one hand, a 
lively air upon it ! But the choral notes presented to him 
their great heads, and cried incessantly to him, like Mr. Kne- 
pus, “ Always slow ! nicely slow ! ” Bach and Handel, names 
which he had never before heard, now sounded continually as 
musical saints before his ears. O what a deal was there 
yet to hear and to learn ! 

In the month of June occurred that one festival in which 
Mr. Knepus was accustomed to take part. It was the so- 
called shooting-club — a festivity which, even until the pres- 
ent day, has maintained all its peculiarities. In the early 
10 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


146 

morning hour marched the honorable body of citizens, with 
Turkish music at their head, out of the city to the shooting- 
ground. Triumphal arches adorned the whole way, and the 
western gate was ornamented with garlands and inscriptions. 
All schools, all workshops make this a holiday ; and when, in 
the evening, the train reenters the city, the windows of the 
streets through which the procession passes are filled with 
spectators. 

Exactly on this day Peter Vieck came to the city, to visit 
Mr. and Mrs. Knepus ; or, perhaps, rather to see how it went 
on with Christian. 

“ I have brought a little anker of beer out of Stettin,” 
said he, “ and a box of confections. I think Mr. and Mrs. 
Knepus will do me the favor to accept them. It is now, per- 
haps, twelve years since I was here last, and yet I find no 
little Knepus ! However, it may yet come ; but then we must 
give the mother a vivat 

Mrs. Knepus laughed aloud at the witty conceit of the 
ship’s captain. 

“ Knepus is gone to-day with the guild !” said she ; “you 
must accompany me there.” 

“ Now, if I know the Odense men right, they will make 
more holes in the bottles than in the target,” said Peter Vieck. 
“ Where do you think, now, one should have the safest place 
out there ? I think just before the target ; because, at twenty 
paces’ distance, on,e might easily get a stray bullet in the body. 
But however, I say, how does it go on with the youth ? He 
conducts himself well, does he ? ” 

“ O, he is so good, and, at the same time, so heartily inno- 
cent ! There is nothing to say against him,” replied Mrs. 
Knepus. 

“ To say against him ! No, that I should not expect, else 
I should have taught him different,” said Peter Vieck, some- 
what sore on the subject. 

“ He is now upon the shooting-ground. You should only 
see how well the green bow of ribbons on his hat becomes 
him ! He carried the king’s cup, the silver goblet, before the 
procession. There was a greåt strife about this honor, be- 
cause the last year’s crown-prince — that is, he whose shot is 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


147 

second only to that of the king’s shot — wished for it: but 
Knepus was the conqueror ; his scholar carried the goblet.” 

At this moment the servant-girl entered the room, quite out 
of breath. The washerwoman’s little boy, she said, was come 
to bring the news which his mother had heard from the city 
watchman, that Mr. Knepus had shot near to the bull’s-eye, 
that only the gunsmith could excel him ; but that he had 
missed his shot, and therefore that Mr. Knepus was king. 

“ Ah, no ! ” said Mrs. Knepus, heartily glad ; “he had bet- 
ter be crown-prince, because it costs so much to be king, 
for then he must treat folks. The crown-prince gets a soup- 
ladle, and that we are very much in want of.” 

“ We must go out ! ” said Peter Vieck ; “ I conduct the 
queen.” He offered the lady his arm. “ We shall get on by 
degrees, for my legs are quite in tune for the procession.” 

Toward evening the windows were seen to be filled with 
spectators. The shooting was ended, and the target was, ac- 
cording to a certain form, put up to sale ; and then, as was 
the old custom, given up to the street-boys, that they might 
carry it through the city. Six of the greatest and strongest, 
having beforehand strengthened themselves with brandy, took 
the target on their backs ; two courageous comrades mounted 
then upon it, plundered the triumphal arches, and thus, adorned 
with garlands and inscriptions, were borne in triumph through 
the city, whilst the whole mob of boys shouted, and with green 
branches in their hands followed the procession. At length 
they arranged themselves in double rows, to receive the honor- 
able body of citizens, who advanced to the music of a full 
band. 

The king, and the two who had made the next best shots, 
the crown-prince and the heir-apparent, with ribbon-scarfs 
covered with silver spangles across the shoulder, opened the 
procession, and before them walked the youth who bore the 
silver cup. With proud ostentation Christian carried this 
before his master. 

“ That is my husband ! ” said Mrs. Knepus, in the excess of 
her joy, not being able to say more. 

“ Yes, now he has the cup,” said Peter Vieck, — “he must 
pour out for the others.” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


148 

Christian glanced, highly delighted, toward all the windows 
and over all the crowd of people. 

Upon all the stone steps stood the spectators, thickly 
thronged one against another, and all eyes beamed with joy 
There was a very dense crowd of people at the corner of one 
of the streets, and amid the human mass there stood promi- 
nently forth a man of pale and sickly appearance ; he looked 
fixedly at Christian, and nodded to him kindly as to an ac- 
quaintance. 

“Lord Jesus!” sighed the boy, and cast his eyes to the 
ground. It was really his father — his father, who perished in 
the war — whom he saw I He cast his eyes once more upon 
the man. Yes, there stood aloft on the steps, strikingly visi- 
ble amid the crowd, his father, whom he had wept as dead. 
Christian’s hands trembled, and he had almost let the silver 
cup fall. The exultation which surrounded him was only a 
hateful clamor in his ear. 

The procession advanced toward the club-house, where the 
festivities were to be closed by a three days’ ball. Health 
upon health was to be drunk, whilst trumpeters stood and 
blew through the windows ; and a harlequin, with a blackened 
face and a fool’s bell in his hand, did his utmost for the 
amusement of the people. 

As soon as the procession had entered the club-saloon, the 
boys with the target, upon which the lively dioscuri still main- 
tained their places, moved off to the house of the king of the 
shooting, where his wife courtesied to them, and then to the 
burgomaster’s and the city director’s, attended still by all the 
boys who followed the train, swinging green branches in the 
air. It was the marching wood, as Macbeth saw it. 

Whilst this went on in the street, Christian found himself 
in the club-saloon, amid all the festal company : hundreds of 
his equals envied him his happiness. But he stood there un- 
susceptible of the gladness that surrounded him, for that pale, 
smiling countenance which he had seen in the throng, had 
petrified his very vitals. 

“ I have seen my father ! ” said he, in silent horror ; “ and 
yet he is dead, and my mother is again married ! It was no 
accidental resemblance which deceived me ; no ! it was himself I 
He actually looked at me — nodded to me I O, it is horrible 1 ” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


149 

It was eleven o’clock when he again found himself in his 
solitary chamber. With an anxiety which would otherwise 
have been foreign to him, he looked round his room ; each 
dark corner terrified him, and that old grave-stone which 
served him as a screen had now, for the first time, something 
unearthly about it. The portraits of the pastor, with his three 
wives and children, stared ghost-like down upon him from the 
canvas. The carved, brightly painted images of saints had a 
demon-like appearance, and for this reason he covered them 
with his clothes. He extinguished the candle, but still the 
ugly shapes nodded to him, now seeming to look down upon 
him from the wall, and now through the window. He could 
not sleep ; he heard every stroke of the bell and steeple-clock 
toll the hour of midnight. 

He then suddenly heard a scraping sound at the window ; 
at any other time he would have paid no attention to it, but 
now ! — He covered himself in bed, and looked toward the 
window : the head of a human being was moving before it. 

“ My fancy deceives me,” said he to himself. He threw a 
second glance toward the window. 

But now he saw plainly a white figure ; it tapped softly at 
the window, and called him by his name. His hair stood up 
for terror ; like one turned to stone, he sat up in his bed. 

He now recognized the voice : it was that of Mrs. Knepus. 

To be sure it was very easy to mount up to this low room ; 
a ladder of but a moderate length sufficed for this ; but yet 
why did she come this way, and at this hour ? 

He sprung out of bed and opened the window. Really and 
truly it was the mistress of the house who stood there upon 
the ladder. In the old song about the beautiful Agnete, it 
says, “ Above she was a lady fair, below she was a fish : ” but 
of Mrs. Knepus it might be said, “ Above it was white calico, 
below soft cotton cloth.” 

“ I terrify you to death,” said she, in a low, laughing voice ; 
but help me in ! ” 

Christian shoved a chair below the window, took the lady 
by the hand, and assisted her thus to enter, without compre- 
hending what could be the purport of this nocturnal visit. 

I must steal,” said the lady, as she boldly swung herself 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


150 

into our hero’s chamber, who presented himself to her in that 
self-same nightly costume in which Gil Bias and other heroes 
have stood. 

The slightly swept passage, on which the sand had the day 
before been freshly strewn, the domestic industry of the lady 
during the few minutes when her husband was in her com- 
pany, and the other little characteristics which we have al- 
ready seen in her, have presented a rapid sketch of the interior 
condition of the Knepus family. This night-wandering is a 
supplementary addition, to make up for what is defective in 
the other. 

The servant-maid could not manage to make the quantity 
of butter which Mrs. Knepus allowed for weekly consumption 
hold out, and this the mistress said was only owing to her 
wastefulness ; and that she might prove the truth of this, she 
laid a wager of three marks with the girl that she would make 
the allotted portion of butter last out the w'eek. But, in order 
that the lady might not go and eke out the quantity from that 
which was in the store-room, which, as we know, was Chris- 
tian’s bedroom, the servant was to keep the key when he was 
gone to bed. The lady, however, found herself short in her 
calculation ; but for all that she would not lose her wager, 
because upon that depended three marks and her reputation. 
From this cause she vaulted, at this hour of night, through the 
w'indow into the little garret, — to steal from herself. 

“ I am in a horrible situation,” said she : “ if anybody saw 
me getting through the window in this way, what would they 
say ? But I do it on account of my honor, and ‘ to the pure 
all things are pure ! ’ ” 

And the lady helped herself to the butter. 


CHAPTER XXIL 


Dost thou think that I go away with as cheerful a temper as I had 
when I came ? I have nothing more left here in the world — no wife — no 
child, nobody, who will take care of me in my old age! — one more kiss — 
it is the last .... Now I must go ; I shall never see thee again — never! 
O God ! watch over my child ! ” — The Sailor : a Comedy. 

I T was already bright day when Christian awoke at hearing 
his own name. He opened his eyes ; Peter Vieck stood 
before his bed, and behind him he saw the figure of yesterday. 
It was his father — his father, who was believed to be dead ! 

“ It is I,” said Peter Vieck, “ and where you see me there 
are no ghosts ! Your father is not dead — here you have him 
living before you. I did not dare to let him go alone to you — 
you are no hero ; there flows a little of the tailor’s blood in 
your veins. I mean nothing amiss,” said he to the tailor, and 
offered him his hand. 

The father pressed the son to his heart, and wept as he had 
done on the morning when he parted from him. 

It was not until dinner that they came to know the true his- 
tory of his fate. The escort of the cannon had actually fallen, 
as the sergeant had written to Marie. 

“Nobody knew,” continued the tailor, “that in the morn- 
ing I had been carried away from my position, and thrust against 
a Swedish horse which had lost its rider. I was hemmed in 
so closely that I could only move my Angers — all around me 
was one firm mass. I had already lost consciousness, as the 
Swedes endeavored to cut for themselves a passage from 
behind. I was ready to sink ; had I fallen I must, without 
the least chance of salvation, have been trodden to death, 
and for that reason I made every effort with my last strength 
to mount the horse. Now, I never had been a horseman : it 
was the impulse to save my own life which set me upon the 


152 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


horse. The Swedish cavalry now galloped back along the 
ditch, whilst ours fired sharply upon them. My horse followed 
the other horses. The balls of my comrades flew about my 
ears, and before I could well look around me I halted under 
the mound, among the Swedes. My countrymen had not 
spared tHe enemy — me they spared, as far as life was con- 
cerned. The Cossacks had taken several prisoners : I was 
placed among them. These inhuman beings fastened us to- 
gether by the thumbs, and then drove us away like cattle for 
slaughter. My mind had always been attracted toward the 
south, but I was compelled to go another way, compelled to 
bear the winter’s cold of the Russian snow-fields — a cold, of 
which we in Denmark can form no idea. Yes, I could write a 
whole book about that which I there heard and saw ; but I 
would only relate how, at last, I came out of captivity. I dis- 
covered in Russia how well off we are here in Denmark. Den- 
mark is a summer land after one has experienced the cold of 
the forests of Russia. When the war was at an end I obtained 
my freedom, and I wrote the tidings directly home, but the 
letter must never have been received. I set out on my home- 
ward way, but I bore already the seeds of disease within me. 
I lay for almost nine months in the hospital at Mietau. From 
this place I sent a letter by a travelling journeyman to Liebau, 
that it might be sent forward thence by the first Danish ship ; 
yet this letter also was lost. I thought of Funen, on all the 
joyful hours which I had spent there : I longed for Marie, and 
thee, my dear son. Painful remorse tormented me for having 
left you j for three long years I had heard nothing of you ! I 
now set out on foot from Mietau to Liebau — there was no 
ship there. I went onward to Memel, from Memel to Konigs- 
berg. But it was as if I were doomed never to reach you — 
when I got there the last ship had just sailed. At length, 
therefore, I went with the first whaler, and came to Helsingor, 
wandered through Zealand, and came again to Funen. O ! I 
rejoiced like a child ! I would tell them about the battle at 
Bornhoved, of the march toward Russia, and of what I had 
seen and had suffered. Ah, how I longed for Marie, and thee, 
niy Christian ! I arrived at Orebak — was weary and hungry. 

I determined to call at the house of the rich farmer, whose 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


153 

brother’s representative I was : he could most likely tell me 
how things were at Svendborg. I entered the parlor — there 
sat the farmer, and rocked a little child in a cradle. 

“ ‘ Good evening,’ said I ; and he asked who I was. 

“ ‘ A dead man ! ’ I replied ; ‘ but when you see that he is 
put together out of flesh and blood you perhaps -v^ill not be 
frightened at him.’ And I related to him how the report of 
my death had been false. 

“ ‘ Lord Jesus ! ’ said he, in a tone so horror-stricken that I 
myself grew afraid. 

“ ‘ Is my wife dead ? ’ inquired I, anxiously. AVith that he 
seized my hand, and besought me immediately to leave the 
house, and again to go out of the country. ‘ Here is money 
for you ! ’ said he, as he gave me fifty dollars : ‘ how could 
any one imagine that you still lived ? Marie is now my wife — 
the child here in the cradle is ours. There she comes ! Do 
not let her see you ! ’ And he drew me out with him into the 
garden. 

“ She did not see my face, for I did not turn round. How 
could she so soon marry again ! I know very well what I 
felt, but I said not one w'ord. I inquired after thee, my son, 
and learned that the Lord had requited thee for that which I 
had suffered. Thee would I yet once more see, and then 
forth into the wide world, toward the south, where I once was 
so happy. Yesterday I came here to Odense ; I sought thee 
out, but the door was fast — everybody was out on the shoot- 
ground. Just as I was about to go out there the procession 
met me. Thou wast the bearer of the king’s prize, people 
told me, and I saw thee carrying the cup in thy hand, walking 
before the train. Didst thou recognize me ? I saluted thee. 
Last night I slept at the public-house. I there met with two 
journeymen, who to-morrow set out on their way to Germany ; 
I make one in their company. We shall not then see one 
another again in this life, my good son, for I shall never more 
return home. Be honest and cheerful, and give pleasure to 
the good people who have taken to thee, thou poor fellow' ! If 
thy mother do not learn it from others, do not thou betray to 
her that I am yet living. Such tidings as those would only 
fall heavily upon her heart, and I shall ever love her.” 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


154 

He embraced his son. 

“ One must take the world as it is,” said Peter Vieck ; “ if 
she goes thus with me, I go thus with her ! — one must sail 
before the wind. As regards the boy, we will hope that some- 
time something will be made of him. For my sea-Zz/r/> he is 
good for 'nothing; but my land-Lucie, the charming girl, she 
thinks a deal of him. I will make a brave fellow out of him, 
and then she can afterward take him, if she like to do so. 
They already write to one another. She has learned from 
her father German, as well as history ; and now she shall 
learn some dress-making. I shall have her boarded and taught 
here in Odense ; in six weeks she will be here.” 

Christian smiled at this intelligence, and it warmed his 
heart. The good, kind Lucie, was then his bride ! — he had 
never yet thought on that. She was the cause of his happi- 
ness ; unless she had interceded for him, things would have 
been very sad with him. His father’s history led him to his 
own ; in this the star of fortune was ascending, in the other 
it was setting : but rising and setting are in our fortunes just 
as much relative ideas as are the rising and the setting of the 
sun and the stars. It is only our own point of view which de- 
termines these. 

If the road to that happiness which natural as well as pos- 
itive religion promises to us leads from earth to a nobler star, 
and from that to one still more developed, more closely re- 
lated to us, then is the whole unfolded life nothing more than 
a great journey of education, a wandering from land to land 
into the heavenly Jerusalem. Our earthly journeyings are a 
feeble, despicable image of this great flight. We make ac- 
quaintance, win for ourselves friends, from whom we rend our- 
selves with tears, because it feels to us painful that we shall 
not meet again ; we are constrained to live hours, days, with 
people who are our torment, and after our separation from 
them they float before us like original points : that which 
gives us the greatest anxiety shapes itself only into a brilliant 
point. From the heavenly city, the goal of our endeavors, we 
may perhaps sometime look down upon our starry heaven, to 
which brilliant points our earth also belongs ; we shall recog- 
nize her as the home of our first existence, and all the remem- 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


155 

brances of our own childhood will float before us. How may 
it then be with those with whom we have here spent our best 
hours in indissoluble attachment? Wherever they may still 
also be abiding they will remember these hours, and hope joy- 
fully for a meeting again. When in those dwellings of peace 
in other spheres, higher worlds of education, we recall in mem- 
ory former years of life, it will be to us as if we here looked 
back to a so-called great journey. We glance upon the map : 
Paris ! yes, there I was for four months ! Rome, there I lived 
for half a year ; and we feel the yearning wherewith we re- 
member those persons with whom we became then acquainted, 
only to part from them so soon : and yet this yearning disturbs 
not the enjoyment of our present happiness. On the great jour- 
ney through eternity we should learn not only to love single 
persons in particular places. We are no citizens of the earth 
but citizens of heaven. The human heart is no comet, whose 
beams only point in one direction, but a sun which is equally 
bright on all sides. 

These thoughts, although he might not be so clearly con- 
scious of them, filled the mind of the poor father and afforded 
him a certain resignation. 

Late in the evening he bade them all adieu. Christian ac- 
companied him toward the street in which the herberg lay. 

“ Farewell, my son ! ” said he to him. “When thou seest 
the stork arrive and fly away again, then think on me ! When- 
ever I see the creature, I will think on our little room in 
Svendborg, where we used to look up to the nest, and I will 
then beg of the stork to salute my son wherever I have to 
find my bread in the world. Farewell, my dear boy, my be- 
loved child ! ” and he kissed him with weeping eyes. “ No, 
thou shalt not go back alone ! I will spend with thee the few 
moments that yet remain ! ” And he went back again with 
Christian toward the church-yard where Mr. Knepus’s house 
lay. That was the last farewell between father and son. 

Next morning at sunrise there went three foot-travellers 
out of the western gate ; they were on their way to Assen, 
in order to go thence to the duchy of Schleswig. Among 
these three was Christian’s father. 



I chapter XXIfL 

“ La jeunesse est le temps di£ illusions.” 

‘KPrttty art llgrtf : 

Tl^tkrre^st thou 
father too well ; 

Didst thou but know it 
Not quite so well, 

Better wouldst show it.’ 


Voltaire. , . 


Fr. Ruckert. 


A round the castle-garden of Odense there wound a 
foot-path, which led from one end of the city to the 
other. On this way Christian and Lucie often went when 
they visited each other. It was in August, and Lucie had j 
now been some weeks in the city to learn the dress-making j 
business, according to Peter Vieck’s arrangement. : 

The sun was on the edge of the horizon, no one could look 
at it without being dazzled by its splendor. ^ 

“ Does it not look as if it came down to us ? ” said Lucie. 

‘‘ If it really came, and were not greater than it seems to be, 

I would run there and look at it.” 

“ And I would run a thousand miles for it,” said Christian, | 
“ but I would be the first that got to see it ; and not many i 
should follow me. Then everybody would talk about it, and j 
my name would get into all the newspapers.” 

“ What good could that do thee ? ” replied Lucie. “ Thou 
art in reality vain ! ” 

“ No,” said he, “ that is no vanity ! How canst thou say 
such a thing ? I should like to sit in a balloon and fly higher 
than anybody else before me. I should like to make discov- 
eries. If I had been a mariner, and might have sailed wher- 
ever I liked, I would have made voyages of discovery in the 
great ocean, or would have gone to the Pole and over the per- 
petual ice.” 


ONL V A FIDDLER I 1 5 7 

“ When thy fingers had been blue with cold thou wouldst 
soon have come back again,” said Lucie. 

“ Thou dost not at all know me,” replied Christian. “ In 
little things I am no hero, and I am not for that ashamed. 
But thou mayest credit me, I should like to be present when 
there was something really important in hand. To be sure, 
I am afraid of sailing in a little boat on the channel ; but I 
should not be at all afraid of sailing on the great ocean in the 
same little boat, if there were any reason for it. I am afraid 
of an enraged cow, and yet if I were in Africa I would ride 
on the tiger-hunt ; because it would be worth while risking 
one’s life for that. He has been drowned in the Odense 
Straits — a cow has killed him : see, Lucie, there is really 
nothing great in that. I should think nothing of venturing my 
life in cases where anything extraordinary was occurring.” 

‘‘ But why dost thou wish to be different to other people ? ” 
asked Lucie, and then suddenly paused. They were now in 
the suburbs of the other side of the city j the foot-path made 
a turn, and they saw on the way an old woman, who wore a 
common man’s hat, in which she had stuck a soldier’s feather, 
and which she had ornamented with artificial flowers. A 
crowd of children ran after her, who made fun of her 
and laughed at her. 

“ That is the shoemaker’s crazy wife,” said Christian ; 
“ she has all the boys after her.” 

Poor, unfortunate creature ! ” sighed Lucie, and changed 
color. The recollection of her former condition of mind 
weighed upon her, yet without her imagining Christian knew 
anything of it. 

“ The poor woman ! ” said he. ‘ ‘ But perhaps she does 
not feel her misfortune.” 

Lucie shook her head doubtingly. “ Let us be thankful to 
God for that which He has given,” said she ; “ and let us pray 
that we may never lose that which we possess ! That is more 
important than to fly to the sun or go to the North Pole. God 
has given to every one of us so much that it is certainly sin to 
desire more than common gifts.” 

“ But I do that, however,” said Christian, in the willfulness of 
youth. “ I wish to be famous, or I would rather not live.” 


ONL Y A FIDDLER ! 


158 

“ Thou art quite a child ! ” said Lucie, as they parted from 
each other. 

Christian returned again the same way; some one seized 
him by the arm : it was the crazy woman. 

“ Art not thou the son of the Holy Lazarus ” asked she ; 
and our hero, who was in truth no hero at all, but who yet 
wished to hunt the tiger in the deserts of Africa, and to make 
voyages of discovery in the clouds and to the Pole, became 
burning hot when the old woman, whose mind was diseased, 
approached him, looked at her for a moment, and then ran 
away. It was very well, however, that nobody saw him. 

Bold ideas belong to youth; they throw themselves ventur- 
ously into the stream, learn to swim, and often reach the goal. 
Those older than they, deliberate, attempt, and — come in too 
late ; they are like the man in the parable, who bury in the 
earth the money confided to them, whilst the more daring ven- 
tures with it and wins. Happy youth ! to thee stand open 
a hundred ways to renown and fortune ! 

A great many extraordinary ideas arose in Christian’s soul ; 
but every new thought, every new idea, like the Arab steed on 
the race-course, first underwent Lucie’s inspection, yet never 
came to a proper race. As a matter of course, she shook her 
head and called him a child. She told him how, when she was 
a little girl, she often had thought about seeking for a great 
treasure, which should make her the richest lady in the world, 
and that she had taken a spade, and now had dug in the 
garden and now in the field, in the hope of meeting with a 
hidden treasure. Just as childish as this did she now regard 
every high-flown scheme of Christian’s. 

Afier every such conversation Christian always went home 
out of humor ; but after a few hours the good understanding 
between them was always again restored. He felt that Lucie 
was certainly right, and that annoyed him; and every arro- 
gant thought which he had expressed aloud, every “ I would 
be famous, or I would rather not live,” lay upon his heart 
like a committed sin. If he were then alone, he prayed God 
for forgiveness, and felt some consolation. But it was soon 
again with him as wUh the Catholic, who, after he has ob- 
tained absolution, commits fresh sin. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


159 

A joy was now in prospect ; it had already been talked of 
for months : the Count’s journey, as Mrs. Knepus called it, 
was to take place this winter. It was now five years since the 
great gentleman had spent a winter upon his estate in Funen ; 
and, consequently, it had been so long since the professors 
and artists of the neighborhood had been able to celebrate 
this festal birthday at the splendid country-seat. 

Mr. and Mrs. Knepus had both of them economy before 
their eyes, and the preparations for the journey were made in 
all respects with regard to this subject. They hired an old 
worn-out coach, and packed in, first the provisions, then the 
violin-case, and, last of all, the gentleman and lady : Christian 
had his place between these two. On the back-seat there 
came in, as travelling companions, a civil officer, together 
with his wife, nurse-maid, and child. In order to keep m the 
warmth, a bed cover was laid right across the knees of the 
assembled travelling associates. Directly over Christian’s head 
hung a lantern, which nearly singed off his hair ; and there 
lay upon the bed-quilt a fox-and-goose board, because they 
intended to play for pastime. They chose the night for their 
journey out, that they might arrive at the hall with the morn- 
ing hour, and determined to employ the following night for 
their return. By this means the lodging for the night was 
dispensed with, gratuities to servants saved, and the cost of the 
carriage was less by twelve hours ; which, being all put to- 
gether, made up a very considerable saving. 

In a closed carriage they managed to sleep quite gloriously ; 
and the nocturnal tour reminded Mr. Knepus vividly of the 
journey which he had made many years before in North 
Germany with the diligence. 

There was nothing very characteristic to remark about the 
other well-packed-in married couple. The lady had once had 
a severe nervous fever, and, therefore, she dated all her 
reminiscences from “ before ” and “ after ” the great sickness. 
Of the husband there is still less of the remarkable to relate, 
and we must take a leap back of several years in order to find 
only one trait worthy of our attention : he was at that time an 
admirer of the Travels of Mr. Nicolai, “ Italy as it really is.” 

The snow lay deep and kept the farmers’ corn-fields warm 


i6o 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


in the severe frost, but the roads were well tracked. Quickly 
rolled away the carriage in the dusk of night. Christian was 
very happy. 

In the public-house of the village, which was yet about ten 
or twelve miles’ distance from the hall, they spent some hours, 
in order that they might not make their appearance too early 
as guests with the great folks. 

The rosy-tinged morning clouds, the white snow, and the 
green fir-woods, presented a very cheerful prospect. Not far 
from the blacksmith’s forge hung, upon the summit of a poplar- 
tree which had been cut down, an empty stork’s nest ; the 
former possessor of which now, perhaps, took his morning 
draught from the fountains of the Nile. Christian looked 
upon this with the same pensive recollection which creeps over 
us when we again find the withered flowers which we once, 
as children, had laid in our Bible. 

And now the hall of the nobleman, with its many stables 
and out-buildings, lay before them. The residence itself con- 
sisted of two portions, the old and the new hall. The road 
wound itself around the old castle-ditches, which, to be sure, 
were now frozen over, but which, it was plainly to be seen, 
were well kept up. The old hall, with its thick red walls, 
small windows, its tower and loop-holes, indicated that no great 
convenience might be expected there ; but all the more was 
that promised by the new building of two modern stories. 
One entered this in the centre by a broad flight of stone- 
steps, the lowest flight of which was adorned by two sphinxes. 
The principal story was not unlike a large hot-house. Trees 
and flowers of southern climates stood on both sides, and the 
cold floor was covered with carpets. Here all was warm and 
beautiful. 

Every requisite which belongs to the winter enjoyments of 
a Danish country-seat was here assembled in abundance. 
Upon the castle-ditches sledges were whirling around a lofty 
pole, upon which waved the Danish flag. Within the narrow 
hazel avenue a slide ran down from a tolerably considerable 
height ; and there were reared upon the great bleaching-ground 
two colossal snow-men, with eyes of coal and shields of ice, 
and with hop-poles, down which water had been poured, for 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


l6l 


icy spears in their hands. Between these two knights of snow 
was placed the cannon which was fired when the healths were 
drunk. 

Dilettanti^ among whom were a clergyman and a burgo- 
master, played, under the direction of Mr. Knepus, behind a 
green curtain in a side room. Upon the table lay rich birth- 
day presents ; and among these stood a flower piece of Naomi’s 
work, which, faithful to nature, was composed from three other 
similar pictures. The delicate sylph-like girl, who was advanc 
ing from childhood to maidenly years, and who possessed, 
in a high degree, the beauties of both periods of life, stood 
near a savage dog of which she was particularly fond. The 
great creature laid his black feet upon her white shoulders, 
whilst his red tongue hung from his mouth. The beautiful 
girl seemed, in fact, to be no more than sufficient for a slight 
breakfast for the dangerous animal ; but it wagged its tail in 
a friendly manner, and her delicate hand caressed it. Naomi 
smiled ; she and the mastiff seemed to be excellent friends. 

“ That wild girl ! ” said the old Countess. “ She once terri- 
fied me to death \ my life hangs only on a thin thread. Now 
she lets that mad animal loose that could eat people up ; now 
she goes galloping on the most furious horse, without saddle, 
through wood and field. The dear God takes care of her, or 
she must long ago have been a cripple. If I had only a 
fourth part of her nature it would do me more good than all 
my drops and my mixtures.” 

The pale old Countess after this seated herself on the sofa, 
and entertained herself with the lady whose recollections all 
took their date from “ before ” and “ after ” her great illness. 

“ Now there is here quite a new sort of malady broke out,” 
said she ; “ people call it the red-hound.” 

“ I must have had this sickness of a certainty,” replied the 
Countess ; “ because I have had all sorts of illnesses, and 
have had them to a much greater degree than anybody else. 
I know the whole apothecary’s shop by heart, and could show 
you a press quite full of medicine-bottles, boxes of ointment, 
and pill-boxes. I only just taste of them, for they do me no 
good at all. Ah ! even for the little excursions which I, weak 
woman, allow myself, I am obliged to provide myself with 
ir 


i 62 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


medicaments. I was, during the last week, at a great soirée 
at the bailiffs, and amused myself ; but I can assure you that 
I went there with sour dough under the soles of my feet, and 
in that condition I sat at the card-table. I am very sickly, 
and yet the physician smiles whenever I complain to him of 
my sufferings. He knows very well that I shall never get 
better, and on that a?ccount he does not pay me the attention 
which in all reason he ought to do. I become dizzy immedi- 
ately when I see a mill.” 

Whilst this conversation was carried on half aloud, the 
music was playing. Naomi was captivated by it ; she stood 
at the window and amused herself the while by bringing the 
Count’s tulips to earlier bloom by blowing into their buds. 
A violin solo now began, the bold execution of which excited 
attention. 

“ Charmant/*’ cried the old Countess, quite forgetting her 
maladies. 

Naomi drew the curtain aside, and there stood in the midst 
of the musicians, behind the low music desk, the scholar of 
Mr. Knepus, Christian, with the violin on his shoulder. 

“ We have, certainly, already seen one another ! ” said the 
Count : “ but where ? ” 

“ In Copenhagen,” replied Christian, in a modest tone. 

“ He has been confided to my instruction,” said Mr. 
Knepus. 

From all sides the tribute of applause was awarded to him. 
Naomi also smiled with unspeakable sweetness upon him, and 
spoke a long time to him, only not of former days. 

What a time of joy and of happiness was this festival. 

The company walked to the slide. Naomi here was more 
courageous than a boy ; Christian held her back. 

‘‘ You dare not get in } ” asked Naomi of him ; and he 
mounted into the sledge only to tumble out of it, yet without 
any further consequences to himself than that of hearing Na- 
omi say to a by-stander, “ How clumsy ! ” 

That made him silent. He dared not any further to ad- 
dress her ; but all the more passionately did his glance fol- 
low her. 

Before dinner he had once more to play, and by this means 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


1^3 

he was again in his true position. The old Countess con- 
versed with him, and when she was made acquainted with 
his parentage she appeared particularly well-informed of his 
earlier convulsive fits, which were now quite cured ; and 
spoke also of Lucie and her illness. “ Yes, all sick people 
in this neighborhood are known to me. I will now candidly 
confess that, according to my own opinion, there may be 
individuals whose sufferings may be more severe than mine ; 
but those are stronger constitutions, which have less to en- ^ 
dure in their greater suffering than the sensitive by even less 
acute pain : and I am so infinitely sensitive ! ” 

One might almost have believed that the interest which 
people showed for Christian was as much on account of his 
former infirmities as for his present musical talent. They 
insisted upon his remaining for a few days at the hall ; there 
would be a very good opportunity for him to return to Odense, 
as the Count, in a few days, was going to set out on his jour- 
ney to England, and would travel through Odense. 

The table was arranged festively ; the dazzlingly white 
napkins stood like fans out of the tall champagne-glasses ; 
the lights beamed from massive silver chandeliers. Every 
gentleman selected for himself a lady; Naomi avoided every 
one ; she approached Christian. 

“ Will the gentleman artist be my cavalier } ” asked she, 
as she placed her arm within his and thus led him to table. 
He became crimson, and conducted himself awkwardly. 

Naomi whispered into the ear of the gouvernante, “Thus 
shall we sit at table in the other world — the bird of paradise 
and the crow near to each other. But you must really enter- 
tain your lady ! ” said she to Christian ; “ or, if you will be 
the lady, then I will be gentleman.” And now she filled his 
glass. 

Christian felt that Naomi’s facility in conversation, her 
liveliness — in short, it was a concerted plan. It was a kind 
of jesting which she was carrying on with him, in which, how- 
ever, a certain affection lay. His whole soul belonged to 
her ; of that he became more and more convinced. Again 
and again she filled his glass ; and, without thinking upon 
the possible consequences, he drank glass after glass. The 


ONLY A FIDDLERl 


164 

blood began to flow quicker in his veins ; he became more 
lively. 

“ He is coming out,” said Naomi. Near to them sat the 
fair. Ludwig, the son of the police-master, who, out of jealous 
despair of three others, betook himself to her, which should 
be a very rational means against an unfortunate passion ; 
and Naomi still more increased his pangs by letting him see 
the devotion which she paid to Christian. 

“ Life to her whom you love,” said Naomi softly to him, 
as she touched her glass to his. 

“ It is you ! ” said Christian, whose tongue the wine had 
released. 

The company now rose from table ; Naomi avoided him. 
He drew himself back with embarrassment, and did not ven- 
ture to approach her. Deeply he perceived how very much 
he yet wanted to fit him for entering the higher world. 

Dancing began. Neither in that could he take any part j 
he did not know how to take a step. Naomi flew like a but- 
terfly through the saloon ; exercise made her once more as 
amiable as before ; the blood glowed through the fine skin 
of her cheeks ; and her dark complexion gained increased 
beauty through the artificial light. She was especially cap- 
tivating ; a glorious Mignon, only too slenderly formed for 
a child of the south. 

“ She will dance herself into a fever ! ” said the old Coun- 
tess. 

Mr. Patermann, the chaplain at the hall, with his repulsively 
mawkish smile around his lips, was of the same opinion. It 
was with these two, with regard to dancing, as it is with the 
dogs and water — they had done without it until they had 
an abhorrence of it. 

Naomi did not seem to trouble herself at all about Chris- 
tian. The fair Ludwig was now the favored one. But Chris- 
tian could not dance. All at once she stood before him, 
laid her hands upon his shoulders, and flew with him away in 
whirling mazes. Everything spun round with him, yet he 
did not dare to leave hold of her. He trod upon her foot ; 
struck his knee against hers. 

“ I’m so unwell ! ” sighed he ; and she let him sink down 


ONL Y A FIDDLER 1 1 6 5 

upon a chair, laughed at him, and floated with another partner 
through the hall. 

An American author relates that the elk, when wounded by 
the hunter, separates itself from the herd and retires to soli- 
tude to die. Christian felt a similar instinct ; he left the 
dancing-hall, for he was, among the high-flying ones, a bird 
with a bioken wing. 

The servant lighted him across the court-yard to the old 
hall, for all the rooms were occupied in the new one. They 
entered by a low portal into the narrow hall, which had 
once received the whole castle-court, ascended thence a wind- 
ing staircase, and, after passing through various lofty old-fash- 
ioned rooms, arrived at a little chamber which had been pre- 
pared in haste for a sleeping-room. Arms of all kinds, and a 
quantity of riding-whips, hung round about the walls of the 
little apartment. 

“ There is your sleeping-room,” said the servant as he 
lighted the night-lamp. “ And here hangs the ancestral lady, 
who will watch over you whilst you sleep,” added he, with a 
smiling countenance, throwing the light upon a picture of a 
lady in the costume of the Middle Ages, which hung over the 
door. That which was most remarkable, however, was, that 
the lady had an iron chain around the neck, which hung down 
over her shoulders and breast. 

“ That was a valiant lady,” said the servant : “ she had not, 
indeed, such a great apothecary’s bill as our old Countess. 
She had a quarrel with her neighbor, who made her his pris- 
oner, put a chain around her neck, and had it riveted to the 
dog- kennel. Those were times ! On that they drunk and ca- 
roused ; but the ancestress, in the mean time, got loose her 
chain, came, happily, to her own castle, and then called out 
her people to fall upon the noble. See you, for that reason 
she had heiself painted with her chain about her neck.” 

The servant now withdrew, and Christian was left alone 
with his thoughts of the picture of the valiant lady. 

She had eyes quite as dark as Naomi. So bold and brave 
would Naomi also have been. He looked through the win- 
dow, but the glass was so thick and burnt with the sun that 
he was only able to see the light shining in the new house. 


i66 


ONLY A FIDDLER i 


He thought upon that evening in Copenhagen, how he hung 
as ship-boy in the wet cordage and saw Naomi also then float- 
ing away joyfully in the dance. He thought of the hours 
which were just passed — of his wants — of his imperfections, 
and all his destroyed hopes. 

A little after midnight he woke ; he heard the departure of 
Mr. Knepus, and was nothing less than glad that he remained 
behind. 

What a healing power is there in sleep, w'hen it is a youth- 
ful heart which is to be healed ! 

The sunshine already lit up the picture of the ancestress as 
Christian awoke from sleep, and the heavy chains around the 
neck of the lady were the first subject which occupied his 
mind. 

“ I also bear such fetters ! I am not much better off than 
if I were riveted to a dog-kennel, whilst others rejoice them- 
selves in the dance ! But I also will rend the chains ! I will 
some day come forth as a great artist, and people shall bow 
themselves before the power of my genius. As in Joseph’s 
dream the sheaves of all the others bowed themselves before 
his individual sheaf, so shall it likewise be with me ; and then 
I too, will have myself painted, but not with the sign cf the 
yoke which I have borne, but hand-in-hand with Naomi. She 
is as beautiful, as wondrously beautiful as the angels of God, 
only not so good. But who can be so ? ” 

And he kneeled down and prayed to God that his beautiful 
dream might be accomplished. 

In the forenoon, the old Countess wished to see all the 
guests assembled around her. The chocolate was served in 
the old hall, which was only inhabited by herself and the do- 
mestics appointed especially to wait upon her. 

The way to her rooms, which at least in the last century, 
had suffered no essential change, was by the winding staircase 
in the tower. Old grim tapestry, which represented an an- 
cient wood, out of which there appeared here and there the 
antlers of a stag, ornamented the walls of the sitting-room. 
A large stove of porcelain was erected before the walled-up 
chimney, and was adorned with sphinxes of gray stone. 
Through an enormous press, the doors of which were hung 


ONLY A FIDDLER t 


167 

with carpeting, one descended into the lower rooms. The 
chairs and sofa had an equally antique appearance, ar d the 
only modern object with which this room was furnished was a 
plaster-of-Paris Napoleon, which stood upon an old pyramid ; 
upon all the spiral rings of which were placed medicine-bottles, 
ointment, pill-boxes, and such like trophies of sickness which 
her ladyship had subdued. Thus to place the hero of war 
amid the trophies of a lady — that was not at all a bad idea. 
People must do things as well as they can ! 

“ Here is my residence,” said the Countess. “ Through the 
whole of the winter the new building stands desolate ; then 
everything is according to the old regime^ and the lights shine 
here — alas, they are the lights beside a sick bed ! ” 

The guests had not yet arrived. Naomi stood upon a chair, 
that she might examine the contents of the uppermost drawer 
of an old exquisitely carved cabinet. 

“ Thou art a true Eulenspiergel,” said the Countess. “ Do 
get down, for the company is coming.” 

It is not every day that the holy of holies is to be seen,” 
said Naomi, with a jeering smile. “You have allowed me to 
look in here.” 

“There is nothing but old rubbish in there,” replied the 
Countess ; “souvenirs of fifty years ago.” 

“ And this portrait of a lady,” inquired Naomi ; “why does 
it lie here ? She is beautiful, but she is like a Jewess.” 

The old Countess fixed her eyes upon the picture, and then 
turned them upon Naomi with the words, “That is the picture 
of thy deceased mother ! ” 

With that there was a pause. Naomi was the first who 
again spoke. 

“ My mother ! ” said she : “ she, however, at least, shall not 
lie among the old things.” And she concealed the miniature 
in her bosom. 

“ Do come down and shut the cabinet ! The company is 
coming ! ” said the Countess. “ You put my blood quite 
into a commotion ; and yet you know that I cannot bear it.” 

“ Tell me about my mother ! ” said Naomi, gravely. 

“ What are you thinking about, child } ” replied the old 
lady ; “ that would not amuse you.” She turned herself 


i68 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


about ; the strangers entered, and the conversation was 
thereby interrupted. 

Christian was again desired to play. He followed his own 
fantasies, because Mr. Knepus was not present. Naomi sat 
sunk in deep thought, and her eye seemed to rest, dreamily, 
upon him. Thus he had never seen her before. She admires 
me, thought he, and this thought inspired him. So silent 
Naomi had never before been seen. 

There was to be a game of battledore and shuttlecock 
played in the new hall, and thither, accordingly, went the 
company. Naomi remained behind with the old Countess, 
took her hand and said, in a tone of seriousness very striking 
for her age, “ Tell me about my mother ! I must and I will 
know the whole ! ” 

“You terrify me with your violence,^’ replied the Countess. 
“ Go across to the strangers, and take part in the game ; that 
is better.” 

“ You still always treat me like a child, which I am no 
longer, and therefore I will know something more about my 
own self. I am no stranger, which you took to live with you 
out of compassion. I am actually that which I ought only to 
appear, the daughter of your son, and you are my grand- 
mother. It has been thoughtless of me, that I have lived so 
long among you without making any inquiry about my mother. 
Only twice have I mentioned her in my father’s presence, and 
both times he rose up angrily, and left me without replying to 
my questions. Neither would you at any time tell me any- 
thing about her, and I have in my frivolity let it pass by, and 
almost forgotten the affair. But to-day, now that I have found 
her portrait, I will know more about her, and you shall give 
me information respecting her.” 

“Naomi,. you know how delicate I am,” said the old lady ; 
“ do not torment me, — because I neither can nor will gratify 
your wishes. Neither are such histories as those fit for your 
years ! No ! in course of time when I, probably, shall have 
long been resting in my grave, my son will tell you about 
these things. Go now into the anteroom and fetch me my 
brown cloak.” 

“ You want to get me out of the room,” said Naomi, “ that 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


169 

you may fasten the bolt, and then not let me in again ! That 
you have done before now ! Grandmother, you know my 
character : in the castle-ditch there is a hole broken in the 
ice ; I will throw myself into it, if you will not immediately 
tell me that which I desire to know.” 

“You are a detestable girl ! ” said the old Countess ; “you 
treat me, a weak lady, very ill. I will yield to your wishes ; 
but that which you desire to know will become only a thorn 
in your own breast.” The old and otherwise sickly and pale- 
looking lady became at these words of a feverish crimson, and 
her speech became quicker. “ You are not of my blood, and 
not of the blood of my son,” continued she : “ it is a folly, a 
weakness in him, that he for some time believed this.” 

As an electric shock acted the next words of the old lady. 

“ The old Jew of Svendborg was thy grandfather,” said 
she ; “ his daughter was handsome — handsomer than thou 
wilt be. She was gouvernante at the hall — she w'as a servant 
here. Dost thou understand me ? — she was a servant here ! 
But she had good sense and was well read, and therefore we 
treated her as one of the family. My son Fritz fell in love 
with her, his father opposed it, and your mother was obliged 
to return to her father. Fritz now took a journey, and we 
attended to our own affairs ; but they kept up a correspond- 
ence, and seemed only to live for their love, although certain 
people did not speak well of your mother. There lived in 
Svendborg a musician, a native of Norway, who came to your 
grandfather’s house, and became the confidant of your mother 
— yes, was very intimate with her. Fritz returned from his 
journey — we believed that all was forgotten; he devoted 
himself to the chase, but his rides a-hunting were only visits 
to Svendborg. I perceived it, and I knew what a sinful life 
they led — worse than you can imagine. It is foolish to talk 
with you about such things ! I told Fritz what I had heard ; 
but he had confidence in the love of your mother, until he 
once found the house-friend with her. In short, you are not 
of noble Danish blood — perhaps of Norwegian ! My Fritz 
was now convinced, and became a rational man again. When 
you were born your mother wrote lamentable letters about 
you ; and at last she put an end to her own life, because Fritz 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


170 

would not listen to her fiction. That was all for effect, and it 
served its purpose. She was buried, and you came to us. I 
myself went and fetched you from Svendborg.” 

“ I thank you for your communication,” said Naomi, calmly, 
but pale as the wall ; “ I am then of the Norwegian, and not 
Danish nobility. Well, I have always had more delight in 
Oehlenschlager’s ‘Hakon Jarl’ than in his ‘ Palnatoke.’ 
Shall I now go over there and play at ball ! ” 

“ Child,” replied the Countess, “ you are excited ! — I never 
knew any one like you ! You do not yet understand the nature 
of the history you have heard. O, there will come a time 
when you will shed tears of blood over that which you have 
heard this hour !” 

“I have heard,” said Naomi, “that my mother was beauti- 
ful, that she was possessed of good sense, and that she had 
the courage to die when she was deeply wounded. Her por- 
trait shall hang in my chamber ; I will garland it with flowers, 
and to it shall all my kisses belong. Now I can go and play 
at shuttlecock with the strangers ! ” 

With a smiling countenance she left the Countess ; alone 
upon the stairs in the old tower she remained standing, and 
wept bitter tears. Ten minutes afterward the gay, loudly 
jesting Naomi was seen playing at shuttlecock. Instinct taught 
her, that tears only excited sympathy where a similar sense of 
suffering existed. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


“ Beside his pillow sat the maid 
And fixed a look upon him 
For which a kingdom might be paid — 

But ah ! what ails thy heart ? ” 

Tegner’s Axel. 

T he old Countess has circumvented me,” thought Naomi ; 

“ she wishes to wound me, and has invented the whole 
story, or else she has received a false report for true. I must 
and Will find out the truth of the whole affair ! ” And she now 
hung upon the Count with flattering words, who often spoke to 
her of their soon being separated for a long time. 

“ For two years we shall not see each other,” said he ; “ I 
shall then return, and you shall go with me to Paris and 
London — to the gay and magnificent London ! ” 

“ You are very kind to me,” replied Naomi, and you are 
the only one toward whom my thoughts and my whole wishes 
incline. Other people whom I know, and whom I must en- 
dure, I only like for my own sake ; they amuse me, and I need 
them, but they frequently are infinitely tedious to me.” 

“ They do not indulge you in everything, as I do,” said the 
Count. 

“ You ? ” repeated she, as she looked inquiringly into his 
eyes, — “ you yield to me ? No ! not one single time have you 
complied with my most innocent, my warmest prayer, and on 
that account I have endured mortifications of which I never 
once dared to tell you, because you became immediately so 
violent, so stern, and cold toward me.” 

She laid her cheek to his, twisted his hair round her finger, 
and seemed to hold in her breath. “ You are ashamed,” said 
she, “ to call me your daughter before the world ; if I be not 
so, then tell me, at least, whom I may love as my father.” 

“ Me ! ” said the Count ; “ me ! — you are my child ! ” But 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


172 

his eye became dark, gloomy wrinkles gathered upon his 
brow, his whole demeanor seemed to oppose the expression of 
his tongue. 

“ And, before the eyes of the world, who are my parents ? ” 
asked she: “the daughter of a Jew, of a — ?” She was si- 
lent — her lips moved convulsively. 

“ Of a man whose name you shall never know,” answered 
the Count. “ He was from Norway. He is dead, and he died 
in a manner worthy of him. ” 

“ O, tell me about it, however ! ” besought Naomi. 

“ No ! ” returned the Count, and left her. 

“ He also is cruel !” said Naomi : “one human being tor- 
ments another. Norman alone is kind and faithful to me ; he 
regards me more than all the rest, and him they put in chains.” 
She went down below into the court-yard to the mastiff, 
caressed him, unfastened his chain, and led the dangerous 
creature up and down in the court : and he, rejoicing in his 
liberty, made all kinds of bounds, whilst his steaming tongue 
hung out from his jaws. 

“ Thou dear Norman ! ” said she. “ A Norman must also 
love me ; and for the sake of thy name I will give thee thy 
freedom.” 

At that moment Christian was returning from a solitary 
ramble in the garden. The thaw which had commenced had 
weakened the legs of one of the snow-men, and his lance lay 
on the earth, dropped from his arm. The bell sounded for 
dinner — Christian left the garden. The moment that he had 
opened the gate he perceived Naomi and the dog, which began 
to bark, and to show his teeth. Naomi laughed aloud when 
she saw how much Christian was frightened. The dog sprang 
toward him ; Christian, however, drew back into the garden, 
and prayed Naomi to fasten the dog. 

“ Poltroon ! ” cried she. 

At that moment the dog tore himself loose, sprang against 
the gate, which gave way, and sprang upon Christian, who 
uttered a cry of terror as he saw the red jaws and sharp teeth 
of the animal directed to him. In order to save himself he 
sprang upon the snow-man, and seized the lance with both 
his hands at the very moment when the creature took hold 


ONL y A FIDDLER ! 


173 

upon him. The snow-pile fell together with a dull sound, 
which in fact was a great piece of good fortune, because the 
pieces of frozen snow and ice, which flew in all directions, 
frightened the dog back. 

Several people ran forward at his cry for help. Naomi 
stood, as if petrified, at the gate. 

“ He bleeds ! The dog has bitten him ! ” they cried. 

“ There, you see the consequences of your barbarity ! ” said 
the Count, who hastened up at that moment, and who cast a 
severe glance on Naomi. 

They took up Christian. 

“ The dog shall be shot,” said the Count. 

With that Naomi sprung forward weeping, and prayed for 
the life of the mastiff; seized Christian’s hand, and besought 
of him, with looks of distress, to ask for the life of her 
favorite. Her lips touched his pale cheek, and he did that 
for which she had prayed. 

The surgeon of the next town was fetched. Christian had 
been dangerously bitten by the enraged animal ; the most 
careful nursing and attention were bestowed upon him. 
Naomi visited him ; silently and gravely she seated herself by 
his bed. Christian offered her his hand, as a token of recon- 
ciliation ; and in order to say something agreeable to her, he 
again besought for the life of the dog. 

“ I fancy that I could get to love you,” said Naomi, in 
extraordinary excitement, whilst she looked keenly into his 
pale face with her beaming eyes. 

The Count now set out on his journey, but it was not to be 
thought of that Christian could already return to Odense ; they 
therefore informed Mr. Knepus, by letter, of the disagreeable 
accident. 

“ Terror and trouble rob me of life,” said the old Countess, 
on the departure of her son. “ Now you leave us, and I feel 
that we shall never see one another more. When, in two 
years’ time, you return, you must go to the village church, into 
the closed chapel, and there you will find my coffin.” 

Ah, mother, that belongs to a novel,” replied the Count. 

It stands written in your mother’s heart I ” said the 
Countess, gravely. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


174 

The Count’s journey was an important occurrence on the 
estate, and yet we only give the information of it by saying 
that he set off. 

Naomi sat in Christian’s chamber. Everything betrayed 
how dear she was to him, and that caused her for the first time 
to feel an interest in him. She inquired from him from whom 
he had learned to play. 

“ From my godfather, the Norwegian, in Svendborg j ” said 
Christian, and then told her about this extraordinary man. I 
once heard a story related about a magician who played a fiddle 
so well along the streets that the children came out of the 
houses and ran after him. He then went into a mountain, and 
the children vanished as he did. Even so, methinks, could 
my godfather play. He had learned his art, he said, from the 
Neck. I think, too, that that which he once told me had ref- 
erence to himself There was once, he said, a poor peasant- 
lad in Norway, who had an extraordinarily great desire to learn 
to play upon the violin. His father would hear nothing about 
it, and insisted on his continuing to labor. On that the boy, 
one evening, stole out of his home, and went with his fiddle 
toward the mountain-stream. Neck showed himself to him 
out of the water, and promised him that he would teach him 
to play yet a great deal better ; seized him by the hand, and 
pinched his finger so violently that it bled. From that time 
forth, nobody could play so beautifully as himself ; everybody 
wished to hear him, and he gained a deal of money by his 
fiddle. With that, his father now permitted him to devote him- 
self entirely to his art. But one morning when he was return- 
ing from a wedding, Neck sat upon the bridge, and said he 
must now come down to him in the water, and remain with 
him, because he belonged to him. On hearing these words he 
flew faster than a horse could gallop, and Neck pursued him ; 
hut he flew into a church, and to the altar, else Neck would 
still have seized upon him.” 

“ But who knows whether, after all, your godfather might 
not be Neck himself?” said Naomi, smiling. Her eyes 
beamed — the blood glowed upon her beautiful cheeks. She 
questioned him still more ; yes, it was her father of whom 
Christian spoke : he, however, saw in this eagerness only 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


175 

sympathy in the fate of his godfather, and therefore he took 
up the thread of his history at every fresh visit, in order to 
please Naomi. She was made acquainted with the journey to 
Thorseng, their meeting in the Glorup garden, and heard of 
the horrible morning when the godfather was found hanging in 
the tree. Naomi smiled ; she laid, thoughtfully, her delicate 
hand upon her brow. 

“ He was an extraordinary man,” said she ; “ but he was 
unfortunate, and that is much more interesting than being a 
fortunate, every-day sort of person. You, too, have very early 
in life had quite an adventure ; but now all that is interesting 
is over : you are now arrived at the wearisome repose in which 
one day goes quite naturally before another. On the flat, 
every-day road, one never attains to anything out of the com- 
mon way ; at least not through one’s self. If I were in your 
place, I would take my fiddle upon my back and steal away 
from all those wearisome people who are all just alike from 
the trimmings on their dress to the black cravat round the 
neck.” 

“ What would then, indeed, become of me ? ” asked Chris- 
tian ; “ I am poor.” 

“ O, you were yet a great deal poorer when you left the 
house of your parents ! ” suggested Naomi. “ Then you could 
not play as you now can, and the way leads still to your 
happiness. If you should for once know hunger for a day, 
or if your couch should be on straw, what harm then } That 
would really make your life very interesting. Only think how 
splendid it would be for you, when you are become a great 
man, to look back upon this time ! The world would admire 
your bold step, and I — yes, I believe that I could then love 
you. But otherwise not ! No ! no ! you must altogether 
turn out something distinguished.” 

With these words she seized his hand, and continued to de- 
scribe to him her romantic views of a life with which she was 
not acquainted. It flattered that proud, self-willed girl, to be 
guide of another. She gave to Christian the place of her doll ; 
with him she would realize her romantic dreams. There ex- 
isted by that means a strong sentiment of affection for Chris- 
tian, which yet was very different from love. She told him 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


176 

about foreign countries, of celebrated men and women, and 
then sighed because it was her fate to have been a girl. 
“ But, however, I will not, at least, be like others ! ” asserted 
she. 

Christian was drawn more and more into the magical circle 
with which she surrounded him ; all his thoughts, all his 
dreams, turned upon adventures, fame, and Naomi. 

The blood careered feverishly through his veins. The 
night-lamp, which burned by his bed, was nearly extinguished ; 
the flame sat only like a painted speck upon the wick. 

“ If I can repeat the Lord’s Prayer to the end,” said he to 
himself, “before the lamp goes out, then I shall one day be- 
come a famous man, and Naomi will be my wife ; but if it 
goes out, then I am lost both here and hereafter ! ” 

He folded his hands, and repeated the words mechanically ; 
his eyes were riveted upon the lamp ; the flame trembled — 
more rapidly did he speak the words. The prayer was ended, 
and still the lamp burned. 

“ But I have forgotten ‘ deliver us from evil ! ’ The whole 
goes for nothing, and I must again repeat the prayer; if it 
then succeeds, it is a twofold token.” And he said once more 
the Lord’s Prayer, and the lamp burned on. “I shall be 
happy ! ” exclaimed he in joy, and the lamp went out. 

It was the middle of the week. 

“ Next Sunday you will leave us,” said Naomi, as she again 
paid a visit to Christian. “ The physician says that you will 
soon be as well as the rest of us. Remember, then, your 
promise ! I know that you love me, but I can bestow my love 
upon no ordinary man, and you can only become an every-day 
person in that shop-keeping Odense, and under the guidance 
of that foolish Mr. Knepus. Venture on a bold step in the 
world ! Here you shall have, what nobody knows of and no- 
body shall, a hundred rix-dollars of my own pocket-money! 
Think of our first meeting in the garden, of which you have 
told me ; I received your eyes and your lips as a pledge. 
You are now mine ; I have a portion in you. As soon as 
ever you feel yourself quite recovered, you will venture on a 
bold step. Let me have tidings of it, and the night upon 
which you begin your wandering I will keep awake and think 
of you.” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


177 

“ I will do everything which you command ! ” exclaimed he, 
enraptured, whilst he threw his arm round her neck. And 
she sat there with her proud smile, and permitted him calmly 
to kiss her glowing cheek. 

As is the life’s coloring in the heart, so is the world mir- 
rored in it. If we had on this evening been able to question 
Christian, Naomi, and, for example, the old Countess also, 
all three of them would have expressed their decided, but very 
different opinions about it. 

To Christian the world was a temple of God, in which the 
heart opens itself to God and love ; in which confidence grows 
and conviction becomes strengthened. The kiss on Naomi’s 
beautiful cheek was his baptism ; the sound of her voice, the 
powerful organ-tones which gave wings to his soul. 

‘‘The world is a great masquerade-hall,” thought Naomi. 
“ One must play one’s part with address ; one must become 
imposing. One has only character according to that which 
one can rightly do. I will be an Amazon, a Madame de 
Stael, a Charlotte Corday, or whatever circumstances may 
best allow.” 

“ The world is a great hospital,” said the old Countess. 
“ With our birth begin our maladies ; every passing hour 
brings us nearer to death. One can make one’s self much 
worse by reading doctors’ books ; an innocent glass of water 
may contain an insect which may grow within us to a large 
beast. One may have a gangrene, one the palsy ; one may 
be dropsical, and one may have the most horrible disorders 
which end only in death ; and this is what we live for ! All 
people are sick, but some conceal their sicknesses ; others 
despise them ; and there are misguided people, without nerves, 
but full of unhealthy blood which gives red cheeks, who carry 
about with them the false idea that they are actually healthy 
people 1 ” 


12 


CHAPTER XXV. 


“ I.es passions sonit les vents qui font aller notre vaisseau, et la raison 
est le pilote qui le conduit. Le vaisseau n’irait point sans les vents et se 
perdrait sans le pilote.” — Esprit des Esprits. 


BEAUTIFUL winter’s day, when the hoar-frost hangs 



on the boughs of the trees, and the black ravens float 
away in the bright sunshine over the white snow, may awaken 
in us the desire to travel ; but very different to this was the 
day on which Christian returned to Odense. A damp fog lay 
upon the whole country; naked, skeleton-like trees, on the 
boughs of which hung large drops of water, stood up amid the 
dirty snow ; — and yet it was exactly this weather which awoke 
his desire to go forth into the world, a longing after romantic 
adventures. To him appeared the whole domestic circum- 
stances, which awaited him, only an uninterrupted succession 
of wet and cold days. Only forth ! and all would be changed 
into sunshine and warmth, he thought. 

“ Here my fortune would be as long in developing itself as 
the summer ; I will leave my native land, therefore, and fly 
toward my happiness ! ” 

A night’s sleep under the domestic roof, where was no Naomi 
to inspire him, again tranquillized his mind. He thought on 
Peter Vieck ; he recalled to himself all that this man had 
done for him, and he felt, with grief, what an ill return he had 
made him. 

‘‘ But if I should some day come back as a celebrated man, 
what a surprise and joy would that be ! But how am I to 
make a beginning in the affair ? — The Bible shall be my ora- 


cle.” 


He opened the holy book, and read in the Gospel of St. 
Matthew the words of Jesus Christ to the sick of the palsy, 
“ Arise, take up thy bed, and walk ! ” — “ Yes, God wills it ! ” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


179 

exclaimed he ; “ He speaks to me by the means of His holy 
word, and I also have Naomi’s money ! This monstrous sum 
makes me richer than I ever was before. I will go to Ger- 
many.” 

Not in the least did Mr. Knepus imagine what occupied the 
mind of his scholar, when he made inquiries about a journey 
to Brunswick, Goslar, and North Germany. He formed a 
sort of plan, but to make out this two things were wanting — 
how he was to carry out the proper beginning, and* how he 
was to obtain a passport. With regard to the last impediment, 
Naomi had already bethought of that, and she knew how to 
obtain the needed passport. 

The fair Ludwig, the son of the police-director, whose stolen 
glances at Naomi tolerably well expressed the notes to which 
the nightingales in Persia sing to the roses, must .furnish the 
passport. He was, indeed, the left hand in the police-office, 
of which his father was the right; and why need the right 
hand know what the left doeth ? He must, as before said, 
furnish the passport, which was to serve for several European 
countries. That was Naomi’s first prayer, and he must ac- 
complish it. He had, indeed, love and youth, those bold 
twining plants which are able to bear a deal without breaking ! 
But amid the folios of the council-room archives, among the 
dusty beams of the audience-chamber, there had also shot up a 
third plant ; that was circumspection, and of it the beautiful 
Naomi had never thought. The fair Ludwig, however, had 
drank of the leaves of this plant every morning and every 
evening in his tea, and therefore he brought of a truth, quite 
secretly to Naomi, the desired, and, as she had directed, pass- 
port for various European countries for a young musician of 
eighteen, and Christian’s name stood within it ; but in order 
to make it unavailing, the description of Naomi’s person was 
given therein ; — the dark, sparkling, gazelle-like eyes ; the 
delicate, slender figure ; the jet-black hair : — only she alone 
could make use of the passport. Because hers, and not Chris- 
tian’s, exterior was described in it, he indeed, excused himself 
with the assertion that her image floated before his mind, and 
that she occupied his whole thoughts, and therefore the descrip- 
tion of her person had been given in the passport. But with 
this passport Christian could not even go to the peninsula. 


i8o 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


He had chosen the festival of Easter for his flight, and 
for this end he intended to request permission to go and visit 
his mother and his stepfather, whom, since the journey to 
Copenhagen, he had not seen. The days of the Lord’s suffer- 
ing and captivity in the grave were to become to him days 
of joy and freedom. What, indeed, could he learn from Mr. 
Knepus.? What could his residence in Odense avail him ? 

He wrote to Naomi, to inform her of his determination, and 
beside tflat, besought her earnestly for a last meeting at the 
little inn, which lay only a few miles’ distance from the es- 
tate. There they would see one another for the last time, in 
order to say farewell to each other. The letter was sent : and 
he was now firmly determined, like Cæsar on the Rubicon. 
O that he could only have dared to have confided in Lucie ! 
But that he ventured not to do ; her mind ascended not so 
high ; she would either turn him to ridicule, or else she would 
endeavor to dissuade him from his journey. 

The important day approached, and Christian strapped up 
his little travelling-bag, but continually undid it again, as he 
had now forgotten to put this and now that into it, which he 
must by all means take with him, and thus some of the already 
packed up things had to be displaced. From his fiddle and 
his Bible he, however, could not part. 

All that Peter Vieck had done for him demanded more and 
more his gratitude ; tears rolled down his cheeks : he took 
pen and paper to write his farewell to him, and besought from 
him forgiveness ; but scarcely was the letter finished than he 
again tore it. Suddenly a new thought awoke in his soul ; 
his eyes sparkled ; his hands folded themselves — a final de- 
termination was taken. He rapidly wrote a long letter, read 
it through, and exclaimed, rejoicing, “Yes, thus it is well! 
now I am tranquil, and Naomi also will be satisfied with it. 
The dear God has given me the ideas I ” Joyfully he laid 
himself in bed, and slept without dreaming. 

In the early morning he went with a return carriage to 
Nyborg. 

Naomi had received his letter, and was quite captivated 
with the excellent adventure, whose originator in truth she 
was; and on that account she resolved to meet him at the 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


l8l 


little inn, but that without the knowledge of any one. She 
could very easily get there — she needed nothing more than 
to take a ride j but it would, nevertheless, have been unpleas- 
ant to her to have been recognized at the inn, seeing that it 
w'as only a simple youth whom she had to meet there. 

She therefore made a visit to the gardener, a dapper little 
man, who dressed remarkably well for one in his condition. 

“ I have a little jest in hand, ” said Naomi to him ; “lend 
me your Sunday clothes for it.” 

She herself stole to the stable, saddled her horse with her 
own hands, and a quarter of an hour afterward she rode, in 
the form of the gardener, down the poplar avenue, — a light 
and bold rider, forsooth I She waved her hat, as the shepherd 
interrupted his work of sewing on soles to his stockings to 
open her the gate. 

“ Take care of my horse, and let the guests’ parlor be heated 
for me,” said Naomi, as she entered the little inn. 

Ah, how often she looked up the road to see whether he 
were not coming at last ! How carefully she studied all the 
names which were written on the window 1 For three whole 
hours that was her amusement. 

“ One shall see that, after all, he will not come ; he has not 
courage for it ! ” said she, vexed. 

And yet the hero came, but late, very late ! And hot and 
weary was he with the long journey. 

“ You are come at last ! ” exclaimed she. 

He started as he recognized the disguised maiden ; and 
soon they began their mutual communications. He told her 
of that which had so actively occupied him, and gave her the 
letter to read which he had written to Peter Vieck. The con- 
tents were not a farewell, but a candid confession of his in- 
tentions, yet without any mention of Naomi’s name. He ex- 
pressed in the letter his romantic view of the world, and 
added his conviction that he must seek his own fortune, and 
that he certainly should become a great performer. He be- 
sought Peter Vieck to give him his consent to this journey, 
without which he could never be easy. He wished Naomi 
first to read his letter ; he meant then to send it and wait at 
the house of his parents for the answer. 


i 82 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


“Is that your real, earnest intention?” asked Naomi. 
“ Now, that is just what I expected ! You will never become 
a great man ! ” 

She would not say another word to him ; — called for her 
bill, and galloped away in the dusk of the evening. 

Christian stood there forlorn ; she had left him without an 
adieu ; he was still in possession of her money, but it seemed 
to burn in his pocket. 

The god of dreams weaves into the veil of night the most 
strange arabesques which the fancy can create ; it is an attrib- 
ute of the power of Michael Angelo to represent the lost soul 
in the day of the last judgment, and the tender beauty of Ra- 
phael in the representation of the heavenly. There is given 
to the youthful heart the same boldness in painting the ex- 
tremes of despair and of hope, and the transitions are equally 
abrupt. 

And if, indeed, in moments of the deepest pain, it paint a 
burial vault — a dark, damp vault, in which nothing but sul- 
phureous fumes spring up — yes, to make its sufferings more 
perceptible to us, points to a rose-bud lying on the ground, 
the sacrifice of corruption, we shall yet see that it, by degrees, 
will strike out roots, unfold itself, put forth leaves and buds, 
and. that the whole vault will be changed to an arbor of 
roses, in which the sun of spring will soon shine, and the 
blue air of heaven enter. 

Thus also, in this night, was the transition in Christian’s 
soul, whilst he, at random, threaded the labyrinthine byways 
which led in the direction of Orebak. 

Green is the color of hope. This image is taken from the 
spring, which clothes the again-awakening life in field and 
meadow in this color ; but is not the regeneration of the morn- 
ing from night much more allegorical ? Here the coloring of 
anticipation is red ; the rosy stripes in the east announce the 
regeneration of life and of light — if this be not, like human 
hope, only a false glory, the reflection of a burning village. 

Christian saw the clear brilliancy in the east — the morning 
was at hand ; but still, however bright the horizon might be, 
yet the sun did not ascend. 

It was a conflagration. There was a fire in Orebak — the 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


1S3 

dwelling of his stepfather was in flames ; and yet all in the 
house slept, and therefore the red flames stretched forth their 
polypus arms boldly through roof and beams. The air and 
the snow became reddened by them, the tied-up horses neighed, 
and the sluggish cows and oxen bellowed in the still morning 
hour : the human beings slept, and those who sleep are indeed 
happy. 

Christian knew not whose house it was which was burning, 
and contemplated the distant fire with that interest with which 
the young look on when other people’s houses are burning ; 
but afterward ! — Yes, in the morning the fire was extin- 
guished ; the last harvests were burnt ; the cattle were burnt ; 
and the possessor ? With his head shattered, he lay beneath 
the ruins of aiallen wall. Two tottering chimneys rose out 
of the smoking pile of rubbish, and peasants and fire-engine 
people bustled noisily about the place of the burning. 

Hither came Christian, with his bundle under his arm and 
his packed-up violin on his back. It was his home before 
which he stood. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


“ By studying you can become a priest : well, does not a cracked bell 
call a pious congregation to devotion ? ” — Queen of Spades, 

“ It is said that he died in the firm and confident belief that his people 
was the most excellent in the world, and in spite of its degeneration and 
all its distress, yet the only chosen peculiar people of God. 


The Old Rabbi by INGEMANN. 


HEN a family is about to hire a servant, they do not 



vv merely consider his essential usefulness, but they take 
into consideration whether he have absurd manners or a bad 
mode of speaking. The actor who makes his appearance in 
public must be possessed of an exterior which is suited to the 
character which he wishes to represent, in order to deliver in 
a worthy manner the work of the poet, and in an especial 
manner regard is had to his voice. To the preacher alone, to 
the organ of divinity itself, do we permit most wretched 
elocution, and the most laughable behavior. We have sing- 
ing, through-the-nose speaking, affected preachers, who for the 
most part have brought their faults with them from the capital, 
where they have endeavored. to form themselves according to 
this or that celebrated pulpit-orator of the time. Thus, in 
former times, people believed that the Bible could not be 
translated into the language of the country; and many country 
people also now fancy that the Bible must only be read aloud 
in the affected tone in which they have heard their pastor 
deliver the dear word of God. Instead of reading in a natural 
voice and from a full chest, and looking at the community at 
large in the face, as if one man, the preacher often stands 
there like a Calcutta cock, and turns his head on one side and 
his eyes on the other. The word of God ought to be like the 
holy wine of the altar, offered in a pure and open chalice. 

Every one of those qualities which a preacher ought not to 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


185 

possess were to be found in the preacher of the parish, Mr. 
Patermann ; who, according to the wishes of the old Countess, 
was to perform Naomi’s Confirmation. Not in vain was honey- 
mingled with the hissing of the serpent in his conversation ! 
There was a something nauseously sweet, something insinuat- 
ing, upon his ever-smiling lips ; he turned, like the elfin king, 
his fair side toward people, but like him, at the same time, 
was a hollow figure.^ The gouvernante discovered that he 
had a truly apostolic countenance, and called his conversation 
poetry in the prose of life. We cannot participate in this 
opinion. In the very worst taste he introduced into his dis- 
course the malicious jokes of others against himself. He did 
not understand how to multiply the thoughts of others and to 
give again the product ; but, in fact, he subtracted his minus 
from the given plus. Such a man as this could not please 
Naomi. 

“ Mr. Patermann is to make a human being of me ! ” said 
she, whilst all his prominent peculiarities passed before her. 
He was to her an object of ridicule ; and that he, at least, 
should not be who treats of holy things. She had no esteem 
for him, and this excited opposition. The preparations for 
Confirmation became in this way disputations, yet all in be- 
coming humility toward the young lady of condition. The 
sinful youth of the country had, on the contrary, to bear all 
the more for it. It was with him as with the schoolmaster 
who taught the son of a rich man together with his own ; 
whenever the former thwarted and vexed him, he poured out 
his wrath upon the latter, assured that he had the right of 
acting according to his pleasure with his own flesh and blood. 

Naomi was accustomed to ride to the parsonage, and the 
reverend teacher helped the gracious young lady always from 
her horse. On the day of which we would now write, the 
herdsman’s boy sprang forward to hold her horse. He was 
sent by the cottager’s wife to entreat the young lady to go to 
her for a moment, because a stranger lay dying in her house 
who had prayed for permission to do so. 

“ What trash is that ! ” said the pastor ; “ the woman is a 

^ According to the Danish popular belief, the elves are hollow behind, 
like a baking-trough. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLE 


1 86 

widow, and that is nothing but begging, lies, and pretenses : ” 
whereupon he conducted Naomi into the parlor. It happened 
so, that on this day they read about the merciful Samaritan. 

“ That was beautiful conduct, which we must imitate,” said 
the pastor. 

“ Then I ought, in this way, to have gone immediately to- 
day to the cottager’s wife,” interrupted Naomi. 

“That is not the application one must make,” said Mr. 
Patermann. “ Here, in the country, poverty consists of pure 
ragamuffins — it is made up of tricks and devices; people 
cannot act with us as in the eastern history.” With these 
words he smiled, because he meant to say something very 
beautiful. 

In the dwelling of the poor cottager lay, where her only 
cow stood tied, a dying man on the straw; his limbs were 
covered with an old sack. No one was with him, the cow was 
his only companion : the skeleton-like fingers played power- 
lessly one with another. 

The door opened and the woman entered, with a jug in her 
hand. “Lord Jesus!” said she, half angry and half bewail- 
ing, “ now there he lies, and will die with me, a poor miserable 
being ! That is what I have got by letting him come in and 
lie here for the night ! Death was already on his lips when 
he came here ! May God, however, help me ! ” 

The dying man raised himself a little, seemed to smile, and 
then closed his eyes again. 

“ The young lady won’t come,” said the woman : “ it is 
what I expected ; and the pastor is angry about my sending 
the lad there, and I shall hear about it, of a certainty.” 

The dying man sighed, and then suddenly he raised him- 
self up and pointed to a sort of traveller’s box, which was 
fastened with a cord. 

“ Shall I open it ? ” asked the woman. 

“Yes !” replied the sick man, scarce perceptibly, when all 
at once his eye brightened, for Naomi stood before him ; she 
had entered through the open door. 

“ I have seen you before now,” said she to the woman ; 
“you have always saluted me so respectfully when you met 
me. Is that water which you are giving to him ? ” asked she. 
“ Go and get something better 1 ” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


187 

“ A little glass of brandy might do him good,” said the 
woman ; “ but for fourteen days not a drop has been in my 
house.” 

“ Go and buy wine ! ” said Naomi, giving her money. The 
woman looked bewildered and inquiring, and hesitated a few 
moments before she went out. 

A sparrow flew upon the stone floor, twittered, and then 
flew out again. The cold wind blew through the crevices in 
the miserable wall. The dying man seemed again to revive, 
and a few intelligible words proceeded from his lips. 

“ Might I look at thee, Naomi ? ” said he. 

“ You know my name ? ” asked she. 

“ I knew it before thou thyself knewest it, ” replied the sick 
man, gazing at her with a sorrowful expression. “ I have car- 
ried thee in my arms ; but thou canst no longer remember old 
Joel ! ” 

“ I saw you a long time ago, but you have never come to 
the hall.” 

“ I dared not ; nor would I, either,” replied he. 

“ What have you to say to me ? ” inquired she. 

He again pointed to the old box. What did it contain, and 
what had the dying Joel to say to her ? If thou couldst have 
understood the twittering of the despised sparrow, thou wouldst 
have heard that which Naomi heard ; if thouhadst understood 
the music which the cold wind of the early Year blew upon his 
pandean-pipe through the wicker-wall of the miserable cottage, 
thou wouldst know why Naomi was so thoughtful, why she 
went with slow steps through the wood toward .the hall. 

Is not Judaism, the father of Christianity, a wandering 
Odip, which is set up as a jest for the younger generation?” 
Could it, perhaps, be this question over which she was pon- 
dering? or it might be the holy remarks of Mr. Patermann 
upon the compassionate Samaritan which actively employed 
her mind. Her delicate fingers turned over the leaves of a 
book, and her eyes looked as fixedly upon the pages as the 
gold-maker when he watches the mingling of the mysterious 
powder in his crucible. Was it Luther’s “ Catechism,” or a 
new and improved edition of the hymn-book, in which prosaic 
hands have stripped it of its poetry, that she looked through 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


1 88 

so earnestly ? The size was too large, the volume too old, and 
the pages bore only faded handwriting. It was the inherit- 
ance of the high-conditioned young lady on the mother’s side. 
There were verses and thoughts in this book, and between the 
leaves lay loose papers. 

“ Is there any shame in belonging to a world-famous peo- 
ple ? ” inquired her thoughts. “ The father of my mother was 
rich; Joel was his servant — his old, faithful servant. When 
I was left, and everything lay in ruins and in ashes, he gave 
me a home where it ought to be. The true, old soul 1 ” 

Tears started to her dark eyes, but she kept them back with 
her black eyelashes. 

“Young lady !” cried the poor woman behind her, “now 
he is dead ! ” 

Naomi stopped her horse. 

“ Is he dead ? ” repeated she. “ Tell me, however, what he 
confided to you, when you sent the boy after me } ” 

“ He only prayed me to send for you, otherwise he could 
not die ; and I knew that to-day you would be with the 
preacher.” 

“You could not have rightly understood him,” replied 
Naomi coldly ; “ and therefore you acted so awkwardly. You 
sent a messenger to me, and yet I never had spoken with the 
man. I know him not. You’ll get into all kinds of unpleas- 
antness if they come to hear of this at the hall. But, however, 
I will be silent about it, that I promise you. Only keep silent 
yourself, and tell the bailiff that the man who came to you is 
dead.” 

“ Dear Lord ! and so you did not know him at all ? ” said 
the woman. 

“ I ! ” replied Naomi, whilst she cast an ice-cold glance 
upon the woman ; “ how should I, indeed, know anything 
about the old Jew? ” 

And she rode away, but her heart beat violently. 

“ Poor Joel ! ” said she to herself ; “ God, indeed, has denied 
thy people, so also can I deny thee ! ” She drew forth the 
book which she had concealed under her dress, and read in it. 
She then put her horse to the gallop and careered away. 

The poorest peasant finds his grave in the consecrated 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


189 

earth of the church-yard, and if his poor relations are not able 
to place above him a grave stone, yet they stretch out between 
two willow-poles a piece of linen, and write upon it with ink 
the name, birthday, and day of death of the deceased. The 
honest Joel, who had carried to the grave the box containing 
the burnt remains of his master, that they might be laid in 
consecrated ground, received for himself only a resting-place 
outside the church-yard wall, where the cow of the cottager’s 
wife grazed on the foot-path ! Four days after the interment 
one might have seen the white sand, with which the poor 
woman had strewn the grave, hurled with stones by the chil- 
dren in whom the Evil One had a place, because they knew, 
indeed, that it was a Jew who had been buried there. And 
the despised sparrows sat themselves on the stones and twit- 
tered their song, and the cold wind of the early Year blew the 
while upon his pandean-pipe through the miserable wicker- 
work of the next fence. 

There is something magnetic in reading ; we look at the 
black letters, and there ascends through the eye a living image 
into our souls, that seizes upon us like a powerful reality. 
Naomi read in the book which had been bequeathed to her — 
she read the letters, and the house that was burned down 
stood again before her, with its old-fashioned presses and the 
inscription over the door, — “ If I forget thee, Jerusalem, let 
my right hand forget its cunning.” The beautiful stocks sent 
forth again their fragrance, and the sun shone again through 
the red glass of the garden-house, where the ostrich-egg hung 
under the roof. 

The old Countess had, however, been correct in her report 
regarding Naomi’s mother. The Norwegian had overheard 
the lovers as they concerted their place and time of meeting. 
He took advantage of this — he was a demon who had no 
pity. Of a truth the joy of love was great, but greater still 
were the sufferings of love. The beautiful Sara wept, as had 
wept Susanna the daughter of Chelcias, but there was no Daniel 
to witness for her, — “I am clear of this blood ! ” There 
were many commentaries rich in meaning on this subject in 
the Book, but they were not right reading for one preparing 
for Confirmation. 


ONLY A FIDDLE/?/ 


190 

“The Norwegian is Naomi’s father!” was written with a 
trembling hand in the book. The old Joel had written these 
words ; and more than this, which told of crime, of misery, 
and of violent death. 

“The Norwegian was my father,” said Naomi, “that is now 
certain 1 O my mother ! through thee I belong to this out- 
cast people ! No one can rob me of this persuasion ! ” She 
stepped before the mirror. “ I have not the fair hair and the 
blue eyes of the inhabitant of the North ; in me there is noth- 
ing which betrays a descent from the land of the northern 
lights and the mist. My hair is black, like that of the chil- 
dren of Asia ; my eyes and my blood tell me that I belong to 
a warmer sun.” 

And she read the books of the Old Testament eagerly, as 
one proud of his ancestry reads his genealogical table. Her 
heart beat loudly at the names of the valiant women of whom 
these writings make mention — of the courageous Judith, the 
wise Esther. 

“ My mother’s people were already an enlightened, a victo- 
rious people, whilst the North was yet inhabited by savage 
hordes. Tbe wheel has turned round ! ” 

“ The noble young lady is an Antichrist in belief,” said 
Mr. Patermann after the hour’s instruction ; and, in fact, 
her questions might have perplexed a more able divine than 
he was. Left to herself, her mind speculated freely, often 
boldly. She looked beyond that which surrounded her, and 
it was to her a welcome pleasure whenever she could embar- 
rass her spiritual teacher, which often was the case. She 
wished to know what it was which Mahomet had taught his 
people ; she desired to hear the Brahminical lore as it was 
promulgated on the banks of the Ganges. “ One must know 
everything in order to choose out the best,” said she. “ To 
the feeble and to the sick one may only give the appointed 
food, but I am strong enough to taste of all kinds.” 

At such remarks as these Mr. Patermann bowed, and 
thought to himself, “ If anybody comes into eternal fire she 
will.” And everything which was displeasing to him in Na- 
omi he mentioned to the old Countess, and she sent intelli- 
gence of it to the Count. The gouvernante, who was by no 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


I9I 

means fitted for the guide of so intellectual a girl as Naomi, 
had likewise gone over to the party of the Countess, and 
that indeed, in the threefold character of reader, nurse, and 
helper-on of conversation. She had been long attached to 
Naomi, but when this young lady began to make herself 
merry over the German poetry of the gouvernante, she then 
went over to the opposite party. That which the angel of the 
Lord prophesied to Hagar of her son seemed to hang over 
Naomi : “ He shall be a wild man ; his hand shall be against 
every man, and every man’s hand shall be against him.” 
With respect to the Countess, the pastor, and the gouvernante, 
they were all three severe enough against Naomi. “I know 
very well,” said she, “ that dark clouds easily arise when 
the meadow steams. But the storm is precisely that which 
interests me, — a self-arranged storm. They wish to be my mas- 
ters ! the Count alone is my royal master ! If they go on too 
far with me, if they play the wicked part of Hainan, then I 
will be as bold as Esther, and when they least expect it I will 
present myself before him as their accuser. It was a more 
powerful hand than that of the fair Ludwig which guided the 
pen, when my person was described in the passport which was 
designed for the womanish boy in Odense ! ” And once again 
she read about Abraham’s rich flocks and herds, of David’s 
victories, and of the pomp and glory of Solomon. 

In the Forum of Rome stands the ruins of a pagan temple ; 
and in the midst of these, between the tall marble pillars, a 
Christian church has been built. The past and the present, 
the old and the new, are here closely bound the one to the 
other ; but the eye of the spectator rests, in an especial 
manner, upon the remains of the temple. Thus also Naomi, 
with her thoughts on Judaism, which she contemplated as 
built up together with Christianity. Accustomed in youth to 
change every myth into reality, there was in her a sort of 
Straussian mysticism, which explained everything historical by 
myths. By degrees she came to take that view of religious 
matters which is beginning to reveal itself in our days in Ger- 
many, as a sort of freethinking. As to her religious opinion 
in the year of Confirmation, if any regard must be paid to it, 
she might be called rather a Jewess than a Christian. The 


192 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 


thundering, sternly avengeful Jehovah, appeared to her more 
glorious than the gentle Spirit whom we address as an Abba, 
dear Father! That which she read in the Old Testament 
united itself with recollections from her childhood. She 
thought on Joel and the last conversation with him. 

The cow of the cottager was grazing upon his grave the 
first time that she passed by it. She cast a glance upon the 
church-yard wall and smiled. 

“ There or here,” thought she, “ the worms still devour the 
body. The Bible announces resurrection from the dead and 
the Bible is the word of God, they tell me. But yet in the 
same book it is written, also, ‘ As the cloud is consumed and 
vanisheth away, so he that goeth down to the grave shall come 
up no more.’ That must also be true, because it too stands 
written in the Bible. I must just as well believe the one as 
the other ! There is no immortality ! Jehovah’s most perfect 
creature must crumble to dust like every work of human 
hands, must cease to exist sooner than nature which has 
formed dust. All created beings, all worlds will perish ; and 
Jehovah will then float in solitude amid the ruins of His works, 
amid chaos, as He did in the beginning. ‘ As the cloud is 
consumed and vanisheth away, so also shall no one return 
from the grave,’ says the Bible. ‘ My days have passed more 
quickly than a weaver’s shuttle, and are vanished away, so 
that there is none remaining.’ Thus live quickly, but enjoy 
whilst we live ! Breathe in joy, and in a moment pass away ! ” 

On the following Sunday satin rustled along the swept floor 
of the church, in which hung garlands of pine-boughs, and 
red lights burned upon the altar. Naomi stood before it ; she 
was the first as well as the best of those confirmed. No one 
answered better than she did ; no one proved his knowledge 
of Christianity more excellently than she did. 

The coach rolled away from the church ; the wheels passed 
over Joel’s grave. 

“ To-day I have enlisted under the banner of Christ,” said 
Naomi, sunk in thought. “ They have educated me to it; 
have given me to eat and to drink that I might be one of them. 
An apostate will be punished ; that I know. Well, in the end 
it must be all one, whether one be of the cavalry or the in- 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


193 

fantry, if one serve the same king.” She fell into deep 
thought. “ O God ! ” she then sighed, “ I am, however, so 
forlorn in this world ! ” And tears flowed from her beautiful 
eyes. 

The servant summoned to the festal meal. Mr. Patermann 
conducted the old Countess to table. Naomi was dressed in 
satin ; a red rosebud ornamented the swelling bosom. 


13 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


“ Pretty pictures, this and that ; 

Half to weep for, half to laugh at ; 

How they stand, how they turn and flee. 
Come and see ! ” F. 


F. Ruckert 


S the spinner has always a little thread upon the reel in 



jr\ readiness, that thereto she may unite the new thread 
which she is about to spin, so has also our popular language 
an established form of words, in its epistolary style, with which 
to begin, and from which to extend its correspondence, — “I 
am well and in health, and wish to hear the same of you,” — 
although that which follows may not unfrequently very strik- 
ingly contradict this. With this opening form of words began 
honest Peter Vieck’s answer to Christian’s letter ; the remain- 
der ran in the following manner : — 

“ How long is it since thou began to be crazy ? Do not set 
all sail before thou hast taken full lading on board ! Take 
care that thou do not lose what little thou hast in the upper 
room ! For the rest I am, till death. 


“ Thy true Friend, 

“ Peter Vieck, 

“ Proprietor and Master of the Ship Lucie^ 


The hand of a friend strikes deeper wounds than the hand 
of an enemy. And had not Peter Vieck properly reasoned in 
what he did ? Christian could not deny that ; he had grieved 
him, but he had not wounded him as Naomi had done when 
she left him angrily, because he would not blindly follow her 
venturesome plans. Then his self-esteem was wounded ; and 
it had vexed him a hundred times since then that he could 
not have thrown her money back to her. Now he thought of 
a thousand bold answers which he might have given. On the 
morning of the following day he had found his home in ashes \ 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


195 

he heard the lamentations of his bereaved mother, and to her 
he gave half of the money: he hoped again to obtain this 
through industry or by some unlooked-for good fortune. It 
was the thought of the moment. Accept good advice from 
thy friend, but never gifts which thou canst not repay ! The 
truth of these words he felt deeply ; for when was Naomi not 
cold and hard-hearted toward him ? 

“ I love her no longer ! ” said he ; “ she is beautiful, but 
that is all ! ” And yet his thoughts dwelt incessantly upon 
her ; he yet dreamed of the time when she had sat upon his 
bed ; had extended to him her hand, and he had pressed a 
kiss upon her cheek. That was a beautiful dream ! He had 
given to his unfortunate mother the half of Naomi’s money ; 
this was a heavy load, which lay upon him and oppressed him 
only so much the more because his mother was not made hap- 
pier thereby. 

In the cottager’s wretched room she sat with her little child. 
The rich relatives of her husband had never liked her ; now 
she thought that the bond between them was indeed rent 
asunder. They wished to take the child ; but that the mother 
would not permit, and spoke hard words in the deep feeling 
of her poverty. Niels sat by the table and heard her. 

“ And you may now take back your tailor to you,” said he. 
“With the hundred dollars he has yet gone overboard ! ” 

“ He got a deal more,” said Marie ; “ but he also gave away 
his life and his blood for it.” 

“Them he managed to keep,” replied Niels. “You must 
not fancy that he is dead ; I saw him here a year and a day 
ago. He came here, actually, one evening, and father gave 
him a hundred or a fifty-dollar bill, in order to send him out 
of the country. Now you can be the tailor’s wife again ! ” 

“ Lord Jesus ! what are you talking about, child ? ” asked 
Marie, clasping her hands. 

“ I say that you must not take it amiss of my connections 
because they will not support you. You brought nothing 
indeed into the house ; thus you may go without taking any- 
thing again out of it ! Your first husband is still living ; with 
him you may be contented ! ” 

“ Thou, good Lord, be gracious to me ! ” sighed Marie, as 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


196 

she listened to her step-son’s relation. “You are an evil 
beast ! ” said she then to him ; “ out of your mouth there 
comes not one true word ! ” And she burst into violent 
weeping. 

There came at this time, into Odense, a company of horse- 
riders, who were on their way to Copenhagen. People said 
a great deal about the handsome men and the magnificent 
horses ; and Christian and other dilettanti assisted in the rep- 
resentation. 

Naomi and the Countess were in Odense, and both of them 
were pleased with what they had seen. “ One lady in the 
company shows so much grace in her demeanor,” said the 
Countess, “ that, without being embarrassed, one must admire 
her beautiful limbs; she stood with waving feathers in her 
hat and fluttering banners in her hand, whilst the black race- 
horse seemed to fly.” Naomi envied her at this moment. 
The men were all of them so well grown, so strong of muscle, 
and of such a powerful exterior, that to them the most difficult 
art seemed only to be play. And yet it was asserted that the 
matadore of the company, Ladislaf, a Pole of one-and-twenty, 
had not yet made his appearance. His boldness bordered on 
temerity, it was said ; he was just recovered from a severe 
illness, and on this account had not been able to appear. On 
the next representation he led a horse into the circus, and 
the attention of every one was turned upon the man whose 
exterior was the true beau idéal of beauty, and whose counte- 
nance of a truth bore the traces of his late illness, and the 
stamp also of a bold temper, nay, almost of arrogance. He 
was interesting to all, although no one as yet had seen any 
proof of his equestrian skill. Rumor busied itself with 
spreading abroad histories regarding him : he was a nobleman, 
it was said, who had killed his beloved accidentally ; others 
stated it as a fact that he had been obliged to fly out of his 
country on account of a duel ; and a third knew pretty cer- 
tainly that he had left his home for love of a beautiful female 
rider, but that she was lately dead. What, however, might be 
truth or exaggeration in this report, this much is certain, that 
the pale and grave young man was a very interesting object. 

“ Yes, he has been very ill,” said the Countess ; “ and 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


197 

what nursing can the poor man, indeed, have had ? I feel for 
him, because I know what being ill is. It must be a horrible 
life to be careering about without a home, from one country to 
another, and perhaps not once be able to get a little water 
gruel ! ” 

“ A happy life these people must lead ! ” said Naomi. ‘‘ I 
envy the lady with the waving feathers in her hat, and the 
fluttering banners.’’ 

“ The end of the affair, however, will be that she will break 
her arm or leg,” replied the Countess, “ and die as a misera- 
ble cripple, if she escape without a broken neck.” 

Naomi shook her head, and thought a deal about the hand- 
some horse-rider. Since that night on which she had left the 
little inn in anger she had not spoken to Christian. When her 
eye rested upon the horse-rider he fixed his glance upon her. 
“ Amor et melle et felle est seaindissimus /” says Plautus ; and 
in Christian’s heart was the confirmation of this to be read. 

Naomi and the old Countess had their places close beside 
the orchestra. Mr. Knepus spoke to the honorable lady; 
Christian made his bow, but he said not a word to Naomi. 
When the performance was nearly ended she leaned over the 
front of their box and whispered to him, — “ Go with the 
company as leader of the band : you have now the best op- 
portunity of going away ! ” 

“ What should I get by it ? ” replied he, rather coldly, al- 
though his heart was already softened ; and he would have 
gladly kissed her hand the very next moment, and have prayed 
her forgiveness for every hard word. 

“ You would get at least this much by it, that you would go 
into another climate,” said she, coldly, and then spoke no more 
to him. 

Yes, climate ! that was an everlasting theme in the disputa- 
tious conversations of the noble house. Let poets and patri- 
ots say whatever they would about the magnificence of Den- 
mark, Naomi declared that we lived in a bad climate. “ If 
Heaven could only have foreseen that our talent for admiration 
could have raised itself to such a potency,” said she, then we 
certainly should have been created, like the snail, with houses 
on our backs ; and then it would not have been needful for us 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


198 

to spend so much time on the condition of our cloaks and 
our umbrellas, which now constitute such an essential part of 
our persons. Our year consists, just as in the tropical coun- 
tries, of a dry and a rainy season ; only with this difference, 
that the dry season with us is in the winter when the cold has 
benumbed everything, and the rainy in the summer, which 
gives to us fragrant woods of which we are so justly proud, 
and beautiful formations of clouds, but which are too little 
studied, because not many of us can ascend so high. ‘We 
may yet have fine summer weather,’ say we in September, and 
when none comes, then we console ourselves by saying that 
‘ It is now too late for us to desire steady weather ! It is good 
that we should have cold weather ! If the dear God will only 
give to us a good rain ! otherwise it will be so bad for the far- 
mer.’ That is our perpetual national song, which we repeat 
all summer long, if the earth be not always as soft as butter. 
A man who has deceived his neighbor two or three times in his 
life we call a villain — a bad man : but a summer which in- 
sidiously gnaws into our health, upon which we cannot calcu- 
late for two days, nobody dares to call bad. ‘ We must think 
about the advantage to the farmer, and not on our own pleas- 
ure ! ’ people say incessantly, but the peasant is just as little 
contented. Is the year really bad, then one hears him with 
reason complaining, ‘ Thou dear God ! this year we have 
nothing ! ’ Is the harvest prosperous, then he sighs again, 
‘ Thou dear God ! now there is such abundance in the 
country that we shall get nothing for our corn ! ’ He com- 
plains and complains, and shall not we, who have a taste for 
natural beauty also, not complain and trouble ourselves ? 
Perishable as the rainbow are the beauties of nature with us, 
or at least we see them under the same conditions — that is 
to say, always with a rain-cloud above our heads ! ” 

These were Naomi’s views. “ She was not possessed of 
love for her native land,” said the Countess ; “ and just as 
little of a feeling for Christianity,” said Mr. Patermann. If 
he could not precisely declare her to be an anti-Christian, yet 
he regarded her as a female John the Baptist, which was the 
same as a precursor of these opinions. In regard to religion^ 
her views were neither ascetic nor Hellenic ; she was much 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


199 


more of a preparatory partisan of “ Young Germany.” To 
this opinion it might be objected that she had paid no atten- 
tion to philosophy, but one need only to have enjoyed it homce- 
opathically in order to be just as deep in it as the greater 
part of this school, and then to be possessed only of eloquence 
and a due acquaintance with the so-called eleventh command- 
ment. 

Mr. Patermann growled his old song about “bad Chris- 
tians,” and the old countess sang her Danmark, deiligst 
Vang og Vaenge,” and meant that no other country could ex- 
cel hers. She had not, it is true, seen any other. 

“I am no poet,” said Naomi, “who endeavors to sing of 
Danebrog, neither am I a patriotic orator, who aims after a 
place in the Danish ‘ Court and States Kalendar.’ That 
which is beautiful I call beautiful, and if other people did not 
make too much stir about it, it would, perhaps, also inspire 
me.” 

It was quite true ; for she, perhaps, admired, even more 
than others, the green fragrant wood, the boldly-shaped clouds, 
the blue sea, and the ancient cairns and barrows grown over 
with their blossoming brambles : but she knew, at the same 
time, that there was greater beauty than this upon God’s 
earth, and that our climate was a bad one. 

“ You should really set off to a country where the climate 
is better ! ” was therefore always the refrain to Naomi’s litany 
about the bad climate of Denmark. 

“ I intend to do so,” was the answer. 

Thus passed the summer of 1819, and a little winter-journey 
to Copenhagen was determined upon. Naomi was to visit in 
a noble house connected with the Count’s family, in which 
was assembled everything which the capital could exhibit of 
rich and magnificent. Fine spirits, whose talents in such 
houses are generally regarded as a sort of public fountains, 
were here invited, in order that their wit and spirit might bub- 
ble forth before the other guests. Naomi, beyond any one, 
could enjoy this intellectual exhibition, and she felt herself 
already happy in the mere thought of such a transition from 
the sick chamber to the drawing-room of the capital — from 
the edifying discourse of Mr. Patermann to the play and the 


200 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


opera. She was now old enough to be presented in the world ; 
she was conscious of her own beauty ; she comprehended her 
own powers of mind : but one thing was displeasing to her, 
and that was, that in this noble house she had only these two 
qualities for her support, for she was wanting in genealogy. 

“ At length I shall here begin to live ! ” said she, exult- 
ingly ; ‘‘ at length I shall escape out of the bastile ! ” 

Whether we may wish her happiness in remaining at least 
yet a year in the state prison — that time will show us. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


“ Hep ! hep ! ” a mocking cry, used in modern times at tumultuous scenes 
against the Jews. It is not capable of proof that the cry was already 
made use of at the persecutions of the Jews in the Middle Ages, and the 
explanation of it by Hierosolynia est perdita, of which the initial letters of 
the strange “ Hep” are to be formed, is a complete failure. Hep is prob- 
ably the provincial word for a goat, and would denote, by way of derision, 
the bearded Jews. It is very singular that this cry is spread even over 
the boundaries of our country, for instance, at Copenhagen.” — Universal 
Encyclopedia of Sciences and Arts» 

I T was on the evening of the 4th of September, 1819, that 
Naomi’s carriage rolled through the gate of Copenhagen. 
What life, what motion, prevailed in the streets ! Doubly 
striking was this for those who came from the provinces. So 
animated as now, Naomi thought it never had been on any 
former visit. Everybody appeared to be excited, like the blood 
of a delirious subject. In the side-streets were seen groups 
of people assembled ; horsemen rode past as if they were 
of the staff who were sent off to the summer-palace to deliver 
dispatches. All indicated something out of the common way. 

Naomi let down the carriage window, and looked out 
curiously upon the throng of people. The East Street, through 
which their road went, was impassable to them, from the mul- 
titude with which it was filled ; wild cries resounded, windows 
were smashed, and a few shots were fired. The coachman 
was compelled to turn into another street. Two other ladies 
from Funen, who had made the journey with Naomi, could 
scarcely breathe for terror. 

“What is all this about? ” inquired Naomi from the carriage 
window, as they drove past a lamp, the light of which fell upon 
her whole countenance. A rude fellow made a thrust at 
her. 

“ That, too, is one of the race of Moses ! ” said he : “ per- 
haps it is a whole Jew’s nest that is taking flight 1 ” 


202 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


“ Hep ! hep ! ” cried all at once a wild crew, who thronged 
around the carriage. The fellow tore open the door and 
looked in. Naomi burst the opposite door open and sprang 
out of the carriage in the first moment’s confusion, whilst the 
coachman urged on his horses; and several hussars sprang 
into the crowd, in the midst of which Naomi stood. She 
quickly collected herself, and letting her veil fall over her face, 
imagined that there was nothing more than some popular 
uproar. 

“ For God’s sake come here ! ” whispered a voice in her 
ear. A man seized her by the hand, and drew her from amid 
the tumult into the nearest house. 

“ It is deep water here,” said the man ; “ now we steer across 
the court, and then Mamsell is hidden as if in her mother’s 
bandbox ! ” 

“ What is this tumult about ? ” asked Naomi. 

“ About your people, whom they will throw overboard ! ” 
replied the unknown ; and then mentioned the name of a 
Jewish family with whom he did business, and to whom he 
believed that Naomi belonged. He was now about to lead 
her home across the court-yard. 

“ I am not a Jewess,” said Naomi. 

“ By my troth the flag lies ! ” replied the man : “ I actually 
saw you spring out of the carriage ! My name is Peter Vieck ; 
my ship lies in the new dock. You may safely trust me.” 

Naomi smiled. “ We have already once before made a 
journey together across the ice from Sweden,” said she. 

“To be sure ! At that time the ice had no beams ! ” cried 
Peter Vieck, delighted ; and now both were old acquaintance. 

She mentioned the street in which she was expected, and 
they now took the way thither through one of the lesser side- 
streets. 

“ These are good times for the glaziers,” said Peter Vieck ; 
“ but they are breaking other windows than those of Jews. It 
is now a good thing to sit up in the garrets, and therefore I 
have stowed my women-folk up aloft. I have brought two 
with me, that they may look about here a bit, for I am lying 
here now only a few days. The youth is also here with me ; 
yes, he is now shut up, and he handles his fiddle a little bit 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


203 

better than he did formerly. They are sitting up there aloft ! 
With these words he pointed to a house hard by. 

“ Have these disturbances begun only this evening ? ” asked 
Naomi. 

“ Certainly ! ” replied Peter Vieck ; but they will not so 
soon be allayed. The affair began in Hamburg, and it has 
come here like a running fire. It is now said that there lie 
two ships with Jewish families on the Rhede, who wish to land 
here. It is all a lie, but the people believe it all the same.” 

Whilst they thus were speaking, a throng of people poured 
tumultuously out of the near principal street into the lane in 
which the two were, and closed the way against them. Several 
shots were fired. Peter Vieck stood for a moment undecided. 
On that a crowd of rude boys burst upon them, and just be- 
side them shivered the panes of a window', which was beaten 
in. 

“ I fancy that we are gone out of the rain into the gutter,” 
said he. 

“ We must see, however, if we cannot get through,” replied 
Naomi. 

If only a stone do not knock us on the head 1 ” answ'ered 
Peter Vieck. “ I am afraid that all the stones do not come 
from the street — there may so very comfortably come down 
on us a stone from a neighbor’s floor. Such a land-tempest 
as this is worse than a sea-tempest. It would, according to 
my notion, be the best if the young lady would put up with 
the company of my women-folk, while I go and hire a coach.” 

The crow'd increased both before them and behind, for the 
lesser streets were like the ducts which received the super- 
abundant crowds from the high street. 

“ If the young lady will take hold of my coat-laps,” said 
Peter Vieck, “I will then serve for a lantern;” and they 
now ascended a narrow and dark flight of steps. He knocked ; 
a female voice asked anxiously who was there ? “ It is I, thou 

little goose ! ” replied the seaman, as he entered with Naomi 
the little apartment. 

Lucie stood with the light in her hand, and the half-country 
and half-town attired mother sat with the hostess and Chris- 
tian at the frugal supper-table. 


204 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


‘‘ Wipe down a chair for the lady ! ” said Peter Vieck to 
Lucie : I am going further to fetch a carriage.” He immedi- 
ately left the little company, in which the mutual astonishment 
was about equally great. All three in the mean time had 
risen from the table, without a single word having been 
spoken. 

Naomi begged pardon for disturbing them, and related that 
which had happened to her. The others became now some- 
what communicative. 

All were full of anxiety, especially Lucie, who was here now, 
for the first time, to see the great city. The widow with whom 
diey lodged was an old friend of her mother ; they had in 
their younger years served the same master. Peter Vieck 
had brought the Funen friend with him, as he would have to 
remain here from eight to fourteen days, and of this time al- 
ready the half was passed. 

As Paris in the three July days, to the inhabitants of the 
north appeared Copenhagen, in its present state, to the peace- 
ful inhabitants of the country. What riches, what pomp, had 
not they here seen ! — there was material enough in it for con- 
versation for a whole year, for a whole life. The royal stables 
with the marble mangers surpassed actually, in grandeur, 
every country church that they knew ! The Exchange, with 
its many shops, which formed two entire streets, was just like 
a little town with a roof. They had seen the royal family sail- 
ing on the canal in the Friedrichsberg pleasure-garden, with 
music before them ; they had been on board a ship of the line, 
where all was so great and so bewildering that one there could 
have a very correct idea of Noah’s ark, in which every kind 
of creature in the world found a place. 

All this was related in a sort of narrative-duet by mother 
and daughter ; yet the mother had the first voice, which was 
only interrupted now and then by shrieks from the street, or 
by the sound of horses’ feet when a troop of cavalry galloped 
past. Then all were silent, and a low “ Lord Jesus ! ” came 
forth with a sigh from the troubled breast. Lucie could not 
satisfy herself with looking at Naomi, Christian indeed had 
spoken so much to her about her. 

Almost a whole hour was passed, and yet Peter Vieck had 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 


205 

not returned. It had been certainly difficult to obtain a 
carriage. Everything again seemed to be tranquil. They 
waited still in vain for the coach ; every carriage which they 
heard they regarded certainly for the one which he had or- 
dered, but all of them drove past. In vain they attempted to 
begin again the conversation ; it would not succeed. Full of 
disquiet they looked toward the door, but no Peter Vieck 
came. It began to be unpleasant to Naomi to be in the little 
room among strangers. 

The watchman called eleven o’clock, and yet they sat there 
all alone. 

“ O God ! ” said Lucie, “ if he only be not shot dead ! 
How easily might they miss their aim ! ” 

“ They only shoot with loose powder,” interrupted Naomi. 
“ For my part I am not at all afraid, and will very willingly 
go home, if Christian will only accompany me.” 

“No, no! ” cried the women, “that will not do. We will 
wait a little while longer.” 

The hostess brought cards for pastime. 

“ But what if Christian were to go down and see after the 
seaman ? ” said Naomi. Christian was quite ready to do so, 
and promised soon to come back again. 

“ Only for God’s sake take care of thyself ! ” cried Lucie 
after him. “ Ah, I am so anxious about him I ” 

“ He is a grown man,” replied Naomi, “ and if I know him 
rightly he w'ill not go far from the house-door ! ” 

But in that Naomi was wrong. 

The women now found themselves alone. 

“ Hark I ” cried Lucie suddenly, “ the watchman whistles. 
O, how fearful it is here in the great city, where one lives so 
high up toward heaven, the one family above another ! Would 
to Heaven that we were again in our quiet home I ” 

“ But there one gets so weary,” said Naomi. 

“ Ah no ! ” replied Lucie ; “ in summer one is almost always 
ill the open air, and in winter there are so many things to 
employ one. I really long for the view upon the neighbor’s 
roof and crooked window, which, from one year’s end to 
another, has been the view from my little chamber. Yes, 
certainly, I long for it because I should not then have to 


206 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


endure the anxiety which I feel here. At first I was delighted 
indeed at the sight of so much novelty and grandeur ; but 
even whilst I saw all that, a distrustful feeling oppressed me 
of being among so many strange people. Not one of them 
all knew me ; I am to all of them perfectly indifferent ! That 
is, after all, a strange thought ! ” 

In the mean time Christain was in the street. Everything 
appeared here to be entirely still ; all doors and gates were, by 
order of the police, kept fastened : but the lighted windows 
showed plainly enough that the inhabitants were enjoying 
no repose in their beds. Every house seemed to be a silent 
night-walker, in whose interior living thoughts were in move- 
ment. In the dancing saloon alone it was dark ; no beam of 
light streamed through the cut-out hearts in the window- 
shutters. Christian thought upon poor Steffen-Margaret : the 
cold earth had already covered her coffin for a long time. Of 
Peter Vieck he perceived nothing. At the livery-stables all 
was still ; and when he knocked, nobody answered. It was 
thus only poor comfort which he had to take back to those 
who waited. 

Naomi regarded her situation on the romantic side, the 
only one which afforded her anything agreable. Lucie, on 
the contrary, was ready to cry. 

“If uncle do not come before twelve,’^ said she, “ then 
may God have mercy on him, for some misfortune must have 
happened ! ” 

“ God is good and merciful ! replied the mother, whilst 
she took up the cards to consult them. 

“ Ah, mother, lay the cards away, however ! It seems to 
me like a tempting of God, on an evening like this, to consult 
the cards.” 

It wanted but a quarter to twelve: they counted every 
stroke of the bell. Like the crew of Columbus, they had 
fixed upon a decided time, after which they would give up all 
hope. Those fixed a day — these a certain hour : it was that 
of midnight. 

Honest Peter Vieck had also, in the mean time, counted the 
quarters, but that already two hours earlier. Now, however, 
he was resigned. He found him in a numerous company, but 
to which Goethe’s words, — 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


207 


“ Gute gesellchaft hab’ ich gesehen ; man nennt sie die gute, 

Wenn sie zum kleinsten Gedicht keine gelegenheit giebt,” 

did not apply. No, of a truth ! good one could not call the 
society in which he found himself, but it furnished rich ma- 
terial for poesy, especially for the romantic ; for it consisted 
of a sort of mixed character, of a little quodlibet, such as the 
watchful police are always able to collect together on a dis- 
turbed night. All were assembled in a great hall, which 
otherwise served the purpose of an audience-chamber ; a 
small window over the door allowed the light of a lamp to fall 
in upon them. All those who, on this evening, had been 
apprehended as disturbers of the public peace, sat and lay 
grouped here in various degrees of shade. 

“Justice must have her course,” said Peter Vieck ; “it was 
a little mistake that brought me here : yet what will it matter .? 
To-morrow will make it all right.” 

He thought on his women-folk, as he called them, and on 
Naomi, who was wailing for the carriage. Yes, she would 
have to wait a long time ! But had he not told it plainly 
enough to the horse-soldiers, when they would force him 
along with the throng ? But they were always so hand-over- 
head, and would hear of nothing ; neither would the sergeant 
of the watch either : to prison one must go, and the bar be- 
fore the door immediately ! There was now nothing else to 
be done but to sleep through the night. To-morrow he would 
soon make his papers clear. 

When it sb'uck twelve he was sleeping a tranquil sleep; 
but in his lodgings they were convinced that some misfortune 
had befallen him. What were they to do ? Naomi resigned 
herself to her fate ; she leaned her head back in the chair, 
and, wearied with her journey, soon slept. As soon as she 
was gone to sleep Lucie gave free course to her tears, until 
her weary head bowed itself to the bosom ; but she did not 
dream, as Naomi did, of some beautiful days in Funen, of the 
giants’ graves, and of flying clouds ; she dreamed of the 
agitated sea upon which she had sailed, and of the agitated 
city in which she now was. She therefore breathed deeply, 
and her bosom heaved like that of a sick person. The quiet, 
pious maiden, was, in sleep, the image of passion ; whilst the 


208 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


wild Naomi seemed to be a gentle, affectionate being, in 
whom all peace and tranquillity breathed. Christian contem- 
plated them both. The uneasy dream which agitated Lucie 
with galvanic power recalled to him the recollection of that 
night which he had passed at the well, and it seemed to him 
as if she were thrown back by sleep into that former state of 
mind. It distressed him to look at her. 

Involuntarily he placed himself by Naomi, and contem- 
plated that beautiful being until his blood became a burning 
fire ; he felt an impulse, a wild desire, to press his mouth to 
her lips. Thus regarding her, he drank in the poison of love 
by copious draughts. She lay immovably there : the beautiful 
Medusa head turned not his heart to stone, but, on the con- 
trary, melted it ; whilst Lucie infused into him fear and 
horror. 

The light burned down ; Christian observed it not until 
the moment in which the flame kindled up again, only to 
expire. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


“ He spurs quickly his steed at the setting-sun ; his curls are splen- 
didly fluttering ; his look is manly and beautiful ; there is something 
powerful in its quick, eager flight.” — H. P. Holst. 

“ I have now lived through a whole day, — a day which thou never canst 
create for thyself. I had a dream of a merry existence, short and pleasant 
as a spring-morning, like an intoxication of champagne ! But then. . . . 
— A Gentleman! s Perspective, 



HE baronial house in which Naomi lodged was wealthy; 


X all the members of it were regarded as patriots, but 
they found that Naomi was not so ; and yet the Armand Car- 
rel of every country would have declared her the fittest recruit 
under the age’s banner of freedom. There was a deal of 
reading here, and yet, for all that, their acquaintance with the 
literature of their native country was confined to reading 
“ The Intelligence of the Address Office,” and the new plays 
which the abonnement evenings of the family presented them 
with. But, notwithstanding, one often heard here the excla- 
mation of enthusiasm, “ Quite superb ! ” over this or that 
English novel, although these not unfrequently were inferior to 
the productions of their own land’s literature. 

They forgot how everything in the world is subjected to the 
laws of Nature, accordingly the poet also ; his fame depends 
not upon his works, but upon the greatness of his country : 
this and his own greatness are multiplied, one by the other, 
and the country always stands as a ten. The family were 
very religious, that is to say, they went very willingly to 
church to hear the preacher, in whom the Count took pleasure. 
Naomi, on the contrary, was quite a heretic. Like as in our 
days the artist Adam has ventured to fly in the face of the 
Parisian clergy, by ornamenting the Panthdon with the saints 
of Voltaire and other intellectual writers, instead of Genoveva 
and the pious characters of the legends, so did she place in 


210 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


the temple of her religion Socrates beside Paul, Mahomet 
beside Zoroaster. People thought Naomi beautiful, but 
still more odd. That everybody was acquainted with her de- 
scent was tolerably certain, and, therefore, something was de- 
ducted from her nominal worth. All, in the mean time, was 
courtesy toward her — that fine, ice-cold, highly-polished po- 
liteness that renders opposition an impossibility. Had Naomi 
been descended from this or the other celebrated family, we 
may very certainly believe that she would have placed great 
value upon belonging to a family which had at one time dis- 
tinguished itself beyond others, which is always very agreea- 
ble ; and we scarcely think that she would have striven to 
have resembled those noble persons who, as we learn from 
history, inspired by the first French Revolution, gave up their 
diploma of nobility in order to become only citizens A Now, 
however, she paid homage to this boldness of mind, and as- 
serted that by this act these men had shown their nobility of 
spirit. Had old Joel at the time entered the drawing-room 
in which she and the noble young ladies sat, she would, per- 
haps, have had a pride in saying, “ I know him ! ” 

A Danish author has made us aware of the fact of there 
being so many Kammerjunkers in Denmark, that if a Dane 
went to Hamburg, and the people in the hotel were not ac- 
quainted with his title, they were accustomed to call him 
Kammerjunker, and that this generally was the right one. 
Into the baronial family was admitted nearly the whole of this 
class, and one of these was, in consideration of Naomi, treated 
with peculiar politeness ; and this gentleman went through 
every attention which betokens A, yet Naomi would not say 
B to it. He was from Holstein, and therefore, body and soul, 
a German. Yet he was not to blame on this account, Naomi 
thought ; it is the language, and not the political boundaries, 
rivers, and mountains, which separate nations, she said. In 
the north, Norway and Denmark are sisters, Sweden a half- 
brother, Germany a cousin, and England a distant relation. 

The Kammeijunker’s father had lately celebrated his ar- 
rival at old age. “ That every one might do,” said Naomi, 
‘‘ who had done nothing but make the dear God not wish for 
them.” Yet that was what she should not have said. 

^ Swedish history has also examples of this kind. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


21 I 


In February there came to Copenhagen, from Sweden, a 
German horse-riding company, who, in May, were to go to 
Vienna. The Kammerjunker took a box in the circus, and 
invited thither the whole baronial family. Miss Emma was a 
passionate lover of horses ; she paid, every fourteen days, her 
two rix-dollars to make a tour with the royal riders, and no- 
body was more delighted by the arrival of the troop than she 
was. As duenna of the many young ladies whom the Kam- 
merjunker conducted to his box, his aunt, the Countess Hohn, 
made her appearance ; she, according to the bad custom of 
many of our higher families, instead of the title appended to 
her name the syllable en, and thus was accustomed to be 
called Hohnen.^ Beneath her portrait there might have been 
written the witty words of Le Sage : “ C’est la perle des 
duegnes, un vrai dragon, pour garder la pudicité du sexe.” 

The Kammerjunker expressed his wish of being present at 
one of the performances of the horse-riders, for as to that 
which was given on our stage he had seen very much better 
acted in Hamburg, that extreme northern point of our civilized 
Europe. 

How extremely rapidly drove the coach thither through the 
snow covered streets. The four carriage wheels rolled round 
many hundred times, and with them the great wheel of Fate. 
Would to Heaven that the coach had been overturned, and 
the ladies had been terrified a little, and Naomi had broken 
an arm ! Yet, that might have been a horrible misfortune ! 
But when did one ever hear of a misfortune happening when 
the criminal went to the place of execution ? Never do the 
horses then run away, nor does the axle-tree break ! 

The circus was quite full. The orchestra played one of 
those light, buoyant melodies, which, when one hears them for 
the first time, operate upon us like the sight of a lady when 
she enters the ball-room ; all is freshness in her life’s joy and 
buoyancy. But afterwards — yes, then the melody again re- 
sembles the lady after she has danced through the night ; the 
freshness is gone ! 

Handsome horses were led forth. During the first exhibi- 
tion the most distinguished performers did not come forward, 
1 That is the same as “ the Hen.” 


212 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


but Naomi had, during that, seen enough to recognize them as 
the same as those whom she had seen at Odense : she turned 
to the bill and read there the name of Ladislaf. 

The lady with the waving plumes stood already on the 
horse, and the banners fluttered again in her hand. It seemed 
to Naomi as if she had only closed her eyes and dreamed a 
short dream since she had seen that lady the last time. 
There were the same movements, the same smile, the same 
music as then. And yet this lady since then had been in 
Stockholm and Petersburg, and this summer she was to 
wave the same banners to the same music before the good- 
tempered people of Vienna ! O, what a happy, animated 
life ! How charming it must be always to be riding about in 
foreign countries, always to be seeing something new, and 
never more coming back to stay ! Coming back ? Ah, that 
indeed signifies, in our language, nothing good ! 

The trumpets pealed, the barriers were opened, and Ladis- 
laf sprang into the circus on his proud black horse. He 
greeted like a lord his vassals. He wore a Polish dress. 
His cap was edged with dark bear’s fur, but his black hair 
came more strongly from beneath it. Every trace of sickness 
was vanished, yet there was no rosy hue to be seen in his 
countenance : a dark bronze coloring was on his proud fea- 
tures j seriousness and keen thought in his dark glance. 

As soon as he showed himself, the handsome, powerful 
young man excited the interest of the w’hole mixed public, 
which was easily to be perceived by the general murmur 
of admiration. His whole attention, however, was turned 
upon the horse ; he cast not a glance on the spectators. Now 
he flew in wild speed around the course, played with sharp 
swords in the air, and took the boldest leaps. It seemed to be 
sport to him, and as if he and his horse had practiced their 
arts only for their mutual pleasure. He exhibited a boldness 
which terrified, whilst his suppleness and his elasticity gave to 
his exhibitions the appearance of the easiest play. People 
looked at him with the same tranquillity with which we see 
the bird floating over the deep ) we know that the power of 
his pinions will not leave him. 

More than one lady held her slender, delicate fingers before 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


213 

her eyes whilst the crowd applauded him. Naomi leaned her- 
self over the front of the box ; her eyes sparkled. That was 
the first man to whom she had looked up, whom she had ad- 
mired in the feeling that he was in anything superior to her. 

After Ladislaf, other performers presented themselves ; yet 
none were so handsome as he, none so bold and courageous. 
He closed the performance by the representation of Mazeppa, 
bound upon the back of the horse, his head depressed, career- 
ing in wild flight over the immense deserts, like a Hetman of 
the Cossacks. 

That was, however, a beautiful, glorious evening ! Even 
the Kammerjunker was interested, for he spoke only of Lad- 
islaf. Through the whole night Naomi dreamed of — Christian. 
That was the man, however, of whom one might dream ; was 
Naomi’s opinion ; and she thought next morning, with regular 
vexation, on the friend of her youth. 

A few days afterwards. Miss Emma told her that several 
ladies of rank had resolved to take riding-lessons from Mr. 
Ladislaf. 

“ I will be one of the party,” cried Naomi ; and as the eld- 
est daughter of the house was also one of them, it could not 
well be refused to Naomi. The Kammerjunker thought, 
however, that the vagrants had too much success. 

The year 1820 brought many kinds of casualties to our be- 
loved Denmark : there was a leak in the financial department j 
Dr. Dampe, and several other uneasy heads, tried to occasion 
a leak in the vessel of state ; a war of opinion showed itself 
in matters of faith, and each party discovered a leak in his 
adversary. At a time of such great and general leakiness, 
we need not mention the leaks which Ladislaf caused in so 
many female hearts, for these are to the machine of state what 
the water-bubbles are to the mill-wheel. In the mean time 
Ladislaf was conscious of the power which he possessed, but 
he betrayed not in the least degree this consciousness by his 
behavior. In the hours of the riding-lessons he was the most 
chivalric, but at the same time the most silent teacher in the 
world ; that which he said was confined alone to what was 
necessary for instruction. Now and then, however, was to be 
seen a smile playing around the handsome mouth, over- 


ONL y A FIDDLER I 


214 

shadowed by the dark mustache, and then the dark eyes 
flashed. Emma thought that this expression conveyed a 
something unpleasant; Naomi, on the contrary, regarded it as 
the sign of a suppressed sorrow. However, that might be 
enough ; he was precisely, because of it, much more interest- 
ing to the young ladies than if he had possessed the eloquence 
of Mirabeau. 

Not one of his female pupils could match herself against 
Naomi in the agility and talent requisite for a clever rider ; but 
then, not one of them had ridden without saddle, over stock 
and stone, as she had done. 

Our forefathers of the Middle Ages in the North scratched 
love-charms upon apples, and they into whose lap the apple, 
which had been thrown, fell, burned with violent love. But 
there may be a variety of apples for such charm-writing ; the 
charm may stand upon the brow, the smiles of the lips, and 
in the eyes they are often legible enough, says the poet.^ A 
hand-pressure, a glance, may be the apple out of which the 
already smitten one sucks poison. 

When people love for the first time, they see the world 
through a prismatic glass ; upon every sharp angle, upon every 
boundary line, rests the sevenfold hope. Every-day people are 
inspired with poetic thought, and the poet sings in the most 
beautiful enthusiasm. 

A man of two-and-twenty, for whom a young girl of eighteen 
already feels an interest, requires only a very few days in 
order to be beloved by her. 

In the middle of April the riders gave their last exhibition. 
The doors were not yet open. Two grooms were busied with 
the horses. By the side of the beautiful horse which Ladislaf 
was accustomed to ride might be seen the handsome man him- 
self standing. The raven-black eyebrows were contracted 
above the dark eyes of the bronze countenance. As yet he 
was in his every-day dress, the short jacket and the leathern 
breeches, which, as if cast to the limb, seemed to yield to 
every muscle. His left hand rested upon the shoulder of the 
horse, and was thereby still more exhibited : it was strong and 
yet handsomely formed. Ladislaf was reading a letter ; it was 

i Svend Dynngs Huus. A tragedy by Hertz. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


215 

only a small sheet of paper, yet it was of a pink color and 
gold-edged, and the gay wafer still stuck to it. One could 
plainly see that the letter was from a lady. For that cause, 
therefore, perhaps that smile played around Ladislafs lips. 

The critics of our days assert that in ancient times many of 
the most distinguished works of the sculptor were painted. 
The objection which has been raised that such works must, 
of necessity, have that stiffness of finish which is found in 
wax-figures, is answered by the remark that wax-figures are in 
fact no works of art at all, but if they were elevated to this 
rank then coloring would enhance the effect of masterly works. 
Whether this be right or no we cannot tell, and it is only the 
suggested idea which we here attach ourselves to. What 
should we think of the Vatican Apollo as skillfully painted as 
it is formed, with the bronze-hued complexion like that of 
Napoleon, and an eye, dark and sparkling, like that of the 
sons of Arabia ? — then we should have an image of the young 
Ladislaf. 

The performance of this evening was the last which the 
horse-riders were to give. The public applauded its favorite. 
The baron’s family had taken two boxes j Naomi and Miss 
Emma failed not to be there. 

The representation was a tournament. Ladislaf entered 
the lists in the costume of a knight ; he made his salutations 
with his lance, exactly toward the box in which Naomi and 
Emma were seated : they were, to be sure, his pupils. Emma 
blushed, Naomi only smiled. 

O, what a dreamful night was that for Emma ! Naomi, on 
the contrary, would not have her dreams until the second 
night — long and heavy dreams, for it had already struck ten 
and she had not yet made her appearance at the breakfast- 
table. 

The servant was sent up to tell her that breakfast was wait- 
ing, but she found no young lady there, but instead of her a 
letter, which contained a slight apology, a sort of a request 
that they would not alarm themselves, for on the last evening 
she had set off to Funen. It was not a mere accident, she 
wrote, but a necessity which had occasioned her to make this 
sudden journey ; but that she would write by the following 
post, and give them an explanation of everything. 


2I6 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


This news made a great stir ; they wrote that same day to 
the old Countess to announce to her this extraordinary journey. 
For the rest, people did not trouble themselves much, for it 
exactly agreed with Naomi’s character suddenly to take it into 
her head to set off to Funen, and just as quickly to act upon 
the idea. 

A few days afterward came an answer from the old Countess. 

She was horrified in the highest degree, for no Naomi had 
arrived there, and not once had the horrible child given her 
any intelligence of where she was set off to. 

It was, as we have said, in April. The spring was expected ; 
the stork was expected — yes, the stork : that is a strange bird ! 
When he comes to us out of the South we then feel an impulse 
to set out thither, whence he has come over to us. The warm 
sunshine entices us out of the house ; we would so gladly see 
how large the buds are become upon the trees, and we go — 
out into the street ; the Copenhageners go out to the sea-side 
and see the rapid movement of the ships. The steam-vessels 
send up their black columns of smoke into the air, the wheels 
rush round, and the ship flies thence. Longing looks follow 
it j we turn back pensively to our rooms. This or that poor 
soul is easily satisfied that it must remain behind. It is here 
very comfortable ! ” is the refrain of so many a narrow- 
breasted heart. “ Do we then only live to be comfortable ? ” 
The contented soul does not understand my question, and the 
fire-ship sweeps in the mean time past the sailing ship. 

Gutskof says in his “Wally,” “Nothing is more agreeable 
to shallow minds than to sketch themselves as they are ; their 
aunts, their cats, their shawls, their little sympathies, their 
weaknesses. There are critics and authors who can only be- 
come enthusiastic in copying reality. Politics are now only 
self-advancement. Reality nourishes itself from its own over- 
flowing fatness.” The baronial family might furnish rich booty 
of this kind, but we will not bring forth the every-dayisms of 
every-day life, and we must, therefore, leave a house in which 
only these are to be found. 

Naomi took the liberty of suddenly setting off. We will 
do the same ; we will also leave Copenhagen ; spring is really 
come; the steamboat lies ready — but the journey is not to 


ONLY A FIDDLER t 


217 

ward Funen : we cannot visit either Christian, Lucie, or any 
other of our friends there, for the vessel proceeds on the East 
Sea with its two water-dividing wheels. Well, then, for the 
sake of the whim, we will make the voyage with it on the Bal- 
tic Sea, for booty of one kind or other it will certainly give 
us, — we must meet with something. We will promise not to 
come home again till we have met with an adventure that 
shall in some degree recompense us for the journey ; if we 
should meet with nothing, nothing at all, we would rather not 
come back again to Denmark. But yet we have an acquaint- 
ance in foreign countries — Christian’s father, the poor tailor; 
perhaps he just now sends his annual greeting home with the 
storks which again visit us. 

We find ourselves already on board the Wilhehnine ; she 
sails away. 

“ What is hid in ocean’s void 
Is forgotten and destroyed.” 

No, that w'hich the polished surface has once seen is quite 
differently forgotten. When the water has closed behind the 
ship’s keel every trace of the ship vanishes. Were it not 
so, how many countenances would look up from the water’s 
surface, if its mirror preserved the image of every one who 
has looked down into it ! Then,dn that case, the proud and 
handsome face of Ladislaf would be seen in it, for only a few 
days are passed since he, with his whole troop, went over this 
watery way. The company had strengthened their forces with 
one man, a Dane — a boy certainly not above eighteen ; and 
yet that was already too old for one who would now first enter 
upon such a track of art. But he had delicate, flexible limbs, 
the eye showed power and good-will, and upon the fresh lip 
curled the mustache. He was called Mr. Christian ; accord- 
ing to his passport he was from Funen. He rested his arm 
on Ladislaf’s shoulder ; they stood arm-in-arm as they ap- 
proached the coast of Mechlenburg. The Dane glanced to- 
ward the North, over the sea, over the floating chain of Alps, 
which separates us from a fourteen days’ earlier spring. 

Yes, flowers and fields were fourteen days further advanced 
than when they commenced their journey. 

The Danish boy pressed a kiss upon Ladislaf s lips. “ I 
am thine,” said he, “only thine !” 


2i8 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


And Ladislaf answered, smiling, “Mine! thou w’ast mine 
upon the sea I ” 

The company chose the shortest way for the land journey. 
It thus did not take them through Liibeck to Hamburg, but 
through the little city of Molln, which, like Verona and Assisi, 
is celebrated because of a grave ; for here rests the world- 
renowned Till Eulenspiegel. He was placed upon his head 
in his grave \ an owl and a glass are carved upon his grave- 
stone. At one time the grave was overshadowed by an old 
lime-tree, in the trunk of which every journeyman artisan who 
passed by, for remembrance sake and in sweet hope, drove in 
a nail ; but in the war-time it was cut down. They tarried 
willingly for a few moments by this grave, for the owl and the 
glass are really a pun. It has been with Eulenspiegel as with 
Homer — a doubt has been thrown upon his existence ; it has 
been thought that more than one person is hidden under this 
name. But we will not beat our brains any more about that. 
I will prefer wandering further into Eulenspiegel’s native city 
to seek for our Eulenspiegel ; then we have found our Naomi. 

Molln is an interesting old German market-town. We wan- 
der through one of the narrow lanes and into a house with 
thick walls, dentated gables, and few windows. Upon the 
spacious ground-floor stand the travelling carriage of the ri- 
ders, the host’s carriage, and a heavy roller ; it seemed as if 
all the rooms in the house, with the single exception of the 
sleeping-rooms, incorporated themselves into this one, which 
was called the floor. 

The troop, since their landing, had made a journey of 
several miles ; therefore, they wished now to refresh them- 
selves. The Danish Mr. Christian sat between Ladislaf and 
Josephine. The latter was the lady with the floating plumes 
and the fluttering banners, accordingly an acquaintance of 
ours. There was no end of the laughter and the mirth ; and 
even Ladislaf looked to-day not so grave and gloomy, his 
proud glance was become eloquent and agreeable. 

“ Yet once more the beautiful country 1 ” sang the Bajozzo, 
and chattered about “ Gef rones u?id gebacknes Handel ” in the 
Viennese dialect ; and when the Danish Mr. Christian spoke 
softly about weariness, and sleep, and dreams, Ladislaf nodded 
to him and sang with Seidl, — 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


219 


“ A Trambiachl kaffa ? 

I wisst nid, zwegn we ; 

I ha nur dan oanzing Tram ; 

Den woas i eh.” 

There is in the Holy Scriptures an account of the words 
of the Saviour in the temple, when they brought before him a 
woman who had sinned and was to be judged. “ Who among 
you is without sin, let him throw the first stone,” spoke the 
Redeemer, and all stole away, one after the other, ashamed. 
Let us remember these words of the Saviour, as we in the 
Danish Christian recognize our Naomi ; let us remember her 
education, her connections, and her opinion of the world. 

She was alone with Ladislaf. 

“ I have done a deal for thee ! ” said she, in so melancholy 
a voice as we have never yet heard her speak. “ If thou 
shouldst ever forget it ? ” 

“ Thou wouldst probably remind me of it,” returned Lad- 
islaf, smiling. 

“ No, never ! ” said Naomi, ‘‘ let things have what end they 
might. I have acted according to free will: I did not like 
the people who were about me. Thee alone I love ! Thou 
mightst kill me, and yet I should love thee still. To me it is 
as if a fever raged in my veins, and yet I never felt myself so 
happy before. A long, monotonous life of so-called good 
days, I hate ; it disgusts me. Much rather a short life and 
actually live ! ” 

“ Many women have loved me ! ” said Ladislaf. “ I could 
tell you foolish stories about it. There is not much in your 
whole sex \ yet you are more man than woman, and therefore 
I may love you, — nay, I fancy that I might love you so much 
as to be jealous of you. I know not your faults yet, but be- 
fore we reach Vienna we shall know one another better. 
Beautiful you are, and glowing as a woman ought to be ; and 
you think like a man.” He kissed her lips and her forehead. 

On my breast,” said he, you must think on the Madonna 
and bow yourself to her.” 

But your wife at first must wear a beard, said she, smil- 
ing. “ As Danish Christian, I am not afraid of riding my 
horse : but you will always have more success than me, and 
for that I could envy you.” 


220 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


“ And I,” replied Ladislaf, should, perhaps, not forget it. 
if you won greater applause than 

They heard footsteps on the floor. 

“ Those are the wedding-guests ! ” said the waiter. “ To- 
morrow there is going to be a grand wedding here. The 
strangers are from Liibeck ; there are also some seamen 
amongst them.” 

As Naomi was about to cross the passage with her lighted 
candle, one of the guests came toward her — a short, broad- 
set man, with a jovial countenance. He was certainly re- 
joicing himself about the morrow’s wedding-feast ! He had 
his candle in his hand, and went directly toward Naomi ; but 
the draught of air blew out his candle. Naomi had, in the 
mean time, seen enough ; she recognized in the little man 
Peter Vieck, the ship’s captain. The blood mounted to her 
face, she became crimson ; but she collected herself again, 
and consoled herself with the reflection that it was impossible 
for the seaman to recognize her in her disguise. How could 
it ever occur to him that he should again meet with the young 
lady of Copenhagen, dressed as a horse-rider, and with hand- 
some mustaches, in the good city of Molln ! She boldly 
stepped up to him, relighted his candle, and said, quite un- 
constrainedly, that she could hear by his German that he was 
no native. 

Peter Vieck smiled and said, “ Good night, brother ! ” as 
he confidentially gave him a blow upon his shoulder. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


“ Isenburg, — How pale thou art grown, since I saw thee last ! 

Faust. — I have taken poison, the poison of doubt, in long draughts, and 
my bad dice are lying here.” — Lenau’s Faust. 

D ost thou know the father-land of the Hindus ? There 
the sun burns hotly, but the air wafts coolness down 
from the Himalayan glaciers ; the fragrant woods invite to re- 
pose ; the fig-tree bows its branches to the earth, sends forth 
new shoots, and thus forms a bower ; the cocoa-palm offers 
thee milk ; the date-palm her fruit ; whilst beautiful birds flut- 
ter around thee — purple-red parrots, golden birds of paradise. 
Here is the realm of color ! That thou seest in the wings of 
the insects as well as in the leaves of the magnificent flowers. 
The swelling river, where the blue lotus grows, is holy as the 
water of baptism. Father-land of the Hindus, thou art pos- 
sessed of that which is the brightest and the most transparent ! 
Is it thy sky or thy still lakes, in which the antelope and the 
leopard quench their thirst ? 

Here lay, so says tradition, the garden of Eden, out of 
which Adam and Eve were driven ; here still blooms the gar- 
den of Eden, and it is the home of the outcast, unfortunate 
Pariah. The wild Mongolian hordes drove out the children of 
the country. The Pariah shares the fate of the wandering Jew, 
People call the wandering people by the various names of 
Egyptians, Tartars, Gypsies. Even in the North, upon the 
sterile moors of Jutland, wander, homelessly, the Pariah’s 
younger race — Tartar-folks : kettle-menders we call them. 
A corn-field is their summer-dwelling, a deep ditch their win- 
ter-chamber. The children of the Pariah have not, like the 
fox, a hole, or the birds of the air, a nest ; they dwell in storm 
and wind upon the bare moor ; their children are born in the 
fields. With her first returning strength the mother must set 
forth again on her journey, with her helpless child on her 


222 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


back. Supported on her staff, she wanders by her husband’s 
side over the uneven moors ; the cold sea-air blows, the heav- 
ens are gray and wet, yet she knows nothing better. 

Upon the heaths of Jutland, as on the walls of the Alham- 
bra, we find the dispersed race of the Pariah : yet their herds 
are most numerous in the woods of Plungary and upon the 
great deserts. The throne of the gypsy-king is the mossy 
stone beside the kettle in which is boiled the stolen sheep. 
Wearied with their wandering the crowd rest in the long grass, 
where the black-eyed children play with the flowers. 

No collected troop of them dare to show themselves in the 
imperial city ; only singly or by pairs steal they through the 
streets, still more suspected and still more closely watched 
than even the poor Sclavonian.^ They show themselves most 
numerously in the suburbs, each of which surpasses old Vi- 
enna in size. 

In the suburb of Maria-hilf, where the alley leads toward 
Schonbrunn, there walked in the year 1820 — in that year in 
which Naomi began her career — two gypsies in their white 
costume, with their great brown cloaks. One of them was 
quite a young man, who wore one of the broad Sclavonian 
hats, the brim of which hung down upon his neck and shoul- 
ders ; the second was much older, tall and thin, and he went 
with his head bare. His thick black hair, which, however, 
had some gray specks in it, served him as a shelter against 
the burning sun. They passed through one of the many par- 
allel streets which lead from Maria-hilf to the Belvidere 
Palace. 

“The suburbs might bring the city into a complete di- 
lemma,” said the younger. “ I dreamed last night that Maria- 
hilf, Josephstadt, and all the four-and- thirty suburbs, set them- 
selves in motion and went up against the city, which was led 
on by the tower of St. Stephen’s. They fought until the white 
and yellow money rolled in the Danube.” 

“ You had been drinking too much strong water,” replied 
the old man. “ Be prudent, Ezekles ! don’t tell such dreams 
— the police have long ears. Besides, is that a sort of thing 
for a young fellow to dream about ? You should dream about 
pretty girls ! ” 

1 To these it is not permitted to remain a night in the city. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


223 

But I dream more about war,” said Ezekles. “ If I were 
but a soldier ! then I could present arms before the Emperor, 
before the good Emperor Franz ! He put his hand to his hat 
when I uncovered my head before him, and that was only to 
salute me ; for I went quite alone on the road. What other- 
wise regards my dream, it was foolish enough. St. Stephen’s 
Church, with the pointed hat, was the general ; it has broad 
shoulders and ancient strength : the Trinity column in the 
Graben was his baton. The Emperor Joseph’s statue sprang 
upon his bronze horse over the Kohlmarkt, and through the 
Kårnthner Street ; they called down all the figures from the 
signs, and they followed them.^ The marble warrior out of 
the Volk’s garden set itself on the point of the marble image 
of the Kapuziner Church ; and they mounted the wall and the 
Kaiserburg, and looked toward the hither-advancing suburbs. 
The villages of Hitzing and Wahring united, and there was a 
noise far worse than there is in the Volk’s garden and the 
Prater on a merry day.” 

“ How the human brain can build up one thing to another ? ” 
said the old man. “ Take care of getting drunk, Ezekles ! 
Strong drinks put a magic circle round us. At first it looks 
very beautiful ; but after we have swallowed down a few 
glasses it draws near to us, winds us up in its web, and only 
shows us from without that which we imagine. It winds us 
up so tight that we are no longer master of our own limbs. On 
that vve sleep, and the fumes get dispersed ; but when we 
again awake we feel that our limbs have been bound, and that 
during the debauch reason has slept too soundly to be able to 
give any account of that which has taken place in the sleep.” 

They went on their way, nor did they relax in their speed 
until they came to the Heugasse, where they could see the 
palace, which is just on the limits of the suburb. 

“You would be a soldier, Ezekles ? ” said the old man. 

“ Yes, here in Vienna ; I should like best to bear arms be- 
fore the Kaiserburg.” 

1 In Vienna every shop has a sign from which it is named : For exam- 
ple, the Cardinal, Madame Catalan!, the King of Denmark, etc. These 
signs have, not unfrequently, great resemblance to the originals — often 
have great artistic value ; as, for instance, “The Young Tobias,” before 
the apothecary’s. — Author’s Note, 


224 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


“That would be a fettered life, Ezekles. You would soon 
begin to long for your liberty. Restlessness lies in our legs, 
just as much as the desire to steal in the mouse which is un- 
der our thumb. If you ran away you would get hanged.” 

“ Well,” replied the younger, “ whether we are gnawed by 
the worms or pecked by the birds is all one at bottom But 
why should we always imagine the worst ? ” 

“ To be food for the birds, that would be something ! ” said 
the old man ; it would be a proud coffin to be buried in their 
stomachs ; that is to say, to be always on one’s travels, like 
our companions in life. I will remember your words, when I 
am wandering about in the Hungarian woods and hear the 
song of the birds. Perhaps I should soon hear the ravens 
cry, which pecked out the eyes of my dearest friend. Believe 
me, Ezekles, I never saw brighter eyes than those of my son 
Bela. You know, indeed, his son Ladislaf ; he is the image 
of his father, only still prouder : there is more black blood in 
him. Bela was better, although they hung him on the gallows. 
But people shout hurrah before the son when he sweeps past 
on his horse, although he deeply despises them in his heart.” 

“ He has actually left his race ! ” said the younger. 

“ And yet he has no peace in himself,” continued the other. 
“ He makes greater journeys than we do ; he has travelled 
across the great sea, which is broader than the whole of Hun- 
gary : only think of such a Danube ? He has visited all the 
kings and emperors, in their own countries, which we saw 
here at the congress. He flies much further than the bird of 
passage, and he has good luck in all that he does.” 

During this conversation they had reached the fa9ade of the 
palace, which turns toward the great plain. Here sat groups 
of soldiers, and talked together ; strangers and natives went 
in and came out from the great picture gallery. The gypsies 
silently contemplated the palace building, which is not distin- 
guished by anything very striking ; but whoever had watched 
the old man’s eye would immediately have observed that he 
was looking for something at the windows : they stationed 
themselves at the open garden door, yet without going into the 
garden. Many people were walking in the stiffly cut walks 
and amid the scenes, which are all laid out in the style of 
Louis Quatorze. 


ONLY A FIDDLER t 


225 

The whole lower story of the palace is filled with excellent 
pictures. The connoisseur finds beautiful things here, espe- 
cially of the Dutch school. On this day there were many stran- 
gers looking through the gallery ; some admired Gherardins* 
masterpieces in bass-relief ; others the rich collection of 
Rubens. 

Attention was excited by the rapidity with which a young man 
with fine features and intelligent eyes went from one picture 
to another, and then again stepped to the window, to enjoy 
the view of the Imperial city and the Hungarian mountains. 

“ That is one of the horse-riders in the Prater ! ” all said 
who saw him. We, however, know the young Naomi. 

Another interest than that about the pictures had attracted 
her to the Belvidere, and for this reason her observation of the 
pictures was so rapid. One piece alone excited her sympathy, 
and to this she turned back many times: it was Vandyke’s 
Samson when betrayed by Delilah, — that masterpiece of the 
great artist. The painful reproaches which lie in Samson’s 
looks are so eloquent that they would be understood from 
Greenland to Otaheite. Delilah’s indifference, the interest of 
the hostess — yes, that is reality itself ! Was it the exquisite 
delineation of art alone which fettered Naomi to this picture, 
or was it that association of ideas gave a deep meaning to 
the subject ? We may not betray it. She often stepped to the 
window and looked down into the valley, only to return again 
immediately to Vandyke’s Samson. Tempestuous thoughts 
agitated her bosom. 

As she yet again approached the window, she became aware 
of the gypsies. She speedily left the hall and descended the 
steps. The gypsies saw her coming, yet no sign had been 
given : they went slowly forward j Naomi followed them at 
some distance. 

As they approached a small house, from which a footpath 
wound through the field, the elder one remained behind, as it 
seemed, to fasten his shoe-tie ; the younger, in the mean time, 
went onward. Naomi advanced to the elder, and spoke with 
him about Ladislaf ; but Naomi heard nothing good. 

“ Thou liest !” she cried, embittered. 

“ Do I lie ? ” asked the old man. “ He is, however, of my 

15 


226 


OJVLV A FIDDLER! 


own flesh and blood ; but it is bad blood, that has caused me 
a deal of trouble. His father was my son. Ladislaf looks 
scornfully down upon his grandfather and his whole race ; 
he does not hate those who hate his. I have told him the 
truth, and his whip has made a red weal upon my shoulder. 
I shall remember it of him ! A man may forget the clear, 
fresh water which was to him a refreshing draught, but he 
never forgets the marshy, bitter water which he has drunk. 
Ladislaf may love you to-day, but to-morrow he will cease to 
do so ; and because he has loved you he will be your tor- 
mentor. 1 know very well that you are no man. I have had 
experience enough to be able to see the past, and of the future 
I will be silent ; it easily explains itself. Beware of him ; and 
if you are possessed of a heart like your disguise, then punish 
him when you can. That I might say this to you, have I 
appointed this meeting. This evening you may meet him in 
Hitzing : there are handsome women there ! ” 

“ But I am not a woman ! ” said Naomi ; “you are mistaken. 
Ladislaf is not good ; I will credit what you say ; but let him 
love the women — I do that myself! Nobody can enjoy his 
youth more than I do, and success is dear to me.” 

“ And yet the blood mounts to your head 1 ” said the old 
man. “ My eyes do not see amiss, and my words have found 
their man. ” He made his bow and went on. 

Naomi was undecided whether to follow the old man or not ; 
but anon she came to a determination, and turned back to- 
ward the city through the old French gardens. 

The gesellschaftswagen ^ rolled from Peter’s Platz toward 
Schonbrunn and Hitzing. Naomi took a place. She joked 
with the rest of the company, for they all were inclined to 
amuse themselves. The honest Viennese talked in raptures 
about their good Emperor and Wurstl and Handl, and of the 
brothers Shuster — all pell-mell, as is commonly the case in 
the Babel of conversation. Just opposite to Naomi sat a some- 
what malapert-looking young artist : he perceived by her accent 
that she was not a native ; he had seen her in the Prater, 
and now told her that she would meet her master in Hitzing, 
where he often came. “Her master!” repeated she to her- 
self, and the stranger mentioned Ladislaf. They reached 
1 A kind of omnibus, which goes every half hour. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


227 

the pleasure-place of Schonbrunn in whose fragrant alleys 
“ the Son of the Man ” ^ had wandered with his mysteri- 
ous thoughts : where Silvio Pellico had stepped behind the 
bushes, that he might not terrify the Emperor by his sickly 
appearance. Poor children followed the carriage, and threw, 
as they drove past, nosegays to them within, in order to 
receive back a few kreutzers. The artist caught a bouquet, 
and threw it, smiling, into the lap of Naomi : she involuntarily 
made a feminine movement to catch the flowers ; the artist 
smiled again, and she felt the blood burning in her face. 

Close by Schonbrunn lies the little country-town of Hitzing, 
with its church and its beautiful country-houses. The music 
resounded charmingly from the casino, which was at that 
time as much visited as now, only not as much celebrated by 
Strauss’s and Lanner’s orchestras. The little garden, crammed 
in between the adjoining houses, was then just as much filled 
with tables and tents as we now see it. 

Ladislaf sat between two young girls at a table. Naomi 
took a seat at the next table ; Saul’s evil thoughts raged in 
her soul, but the exultant music produced not upon her the 
tranquillizing effect of the tones of David’s harp. The 
buoyant dancing tunes breathed the animating spirit of the 
Volk’s theatre, the delights of Schonbrunn and the Prater ; 
all hearts accorded to the words, “ There’s but one imperial 
city — there’s but one Vienna ! ” But in Naomi’s ears the joy- 
ous melodies sounded only like sighs and the laugh of deris- 
ion ; they were the cold gales from the damp dungeons of Spiel- 
berg, and the stifling heat from the leaden-roofed chambers of 
Venice, which she breathed. 

Ladislaf looked at her with proud and arrogant glances ; 
she also looked at him, but she seemed not to know him : 
and yet they followed each other as the shadow follows the 
body. 

The elasticity of human thought knows no bounds ; it is 
immeasurable as infinite space, which the astronomers de- 
scribe to us as boundless. The grandeur of the spirit in- 
creases our horizon ; but suffering and important moments 
of our lives possess this power also, and not unfrequently do 

1 *• Le fils de Thomme ” of Barthelemi, the Duke of Reichstadt. — Au- 
ihor's Note. 


228 


OATLY A FIDDLER! 


our thoughts place us in a heaven or in a hell. Naomi looked 
with the eyes of a Newton, but she only gazed into a diabol- 
ical abyss. 

When the open air was exchanged for the lighted saloon, 
Ladislaf and Naomi met in the dance. She was compelled to 
dance with a lady, her disguise demanded that, and there lay 
on Ladislaf’s lips a jeering smile because of it ; yet he said 
nothing to her, and she just as little to him. She moved to 
the stormy music, an Ixion upon the burning wheel. Her 
bosom heaved wildly, her eyes sparkled : Ladislaf seemed to 
be cold, a male Turandot, with the proud, deriding smile. 
O, what pangs the human heart may create for itself! It 
always beats, it always bleeds, — that is necessary for the 
maintenance of life. 


Ladislaf vanished in the throng; in vain Naomi’s eyes 
sought for him. It was already late ; the last gesellschafts- 
wagen was gone, and there were now only a few peasants with 
their barrier wagons ^ drawn up before the saloon-house. A 
gentleman with two ladies mounted into one of them ; yes, it 
was Ladislaf! Naomi also quickly seated herself under the 
tented covering, and the wagon rolled on toward the city. 

The lights of Hitzing and Schonbrunn shone through the 
dark trees ; several respectable citizen families sat likewise in 
the wagon, and were very merry ; they talked about elves and 
fairies, with which the good Viennese are very well acquainted, 
from the Volk’s theatre ; they quoted witticisms of Kasperle 
and Pumpernickel, and chatted about their three Schusters,JJ 
especially Ignaz — the glorious, witty Ignaz ! 4 


1 The wicker wagons with their arched coverings are so-called, becaus^ 

they are not allowed to drive further than the city barriers or limits. 
Author's Note. M 

2 Three brothers, and celebrated comic actors of the Leopold-stadt the-[ 
atre, of whom, however, Ignaz is the greatest favorite. They gave occa- \ 
sion to the piece called “ The Three Schusters ” (or Shoemakers), in which 
the parts were given thus (Anglicizing the proper names) : — 

Mr. Anton Shoemaker, a ) 

Master Shoemaker . . I Shoemaker. 

Mr. Joseph Shoemaker, a 
Master Shoemaker . 

Mr. Ignaz Shoemaker, 

Master Shoemaker 


^ Mr. Joseph Shoemaker, 
a ) 

y Mr. Ignaz Shoemaker. 


Author's Note 


OATLV A FIDDLER! 


229 

We do not know the comic three-leaved Schusters ; do not 
know the brilliant period of the Leopold-stadt theatre, but we 
can imagine it to ourselves. And if we have not also ac- 
quaintance with the muse of Baurle, yet we do know that of 
Raismend and Nestroy, and we might amuse ourselves with 
the honest Viennese in the barrier wagon with the fairy world 
of the Volk’s theatre, in which the good souls fancy them- 
selves placed where they: see the lights shining from Hitzing 
and Schonbrunn through the dark trees. 

In one of these farces one sees the prince of the spirit world 
sitting upon a bed ; he rings for the chambermaid, and asks, 
“ What wet clouds are these which they have given me for a 
bed ? ” — “ It is impossible,” was the reply, “ for you to have 
any drier this year ; the police even have made a complaint 
about it. The seasons now run one into another ; it is not 
now any longer as it was in the old times.’* — “ Call me the 
Seasons here ! ” replied the king of the spirit world. These 
appear. Winter is an old man, who is supported by his staff. 
The prince calls him before him. “ What is this that I hear 1 ” 
asked he ; “ that thou art beginning to be so damp in thy old 
days! You must leave that off! Every one of you must 
attend better to his post than you have done, else you will 
have your dismissal, and that without a pension ! ” The Sea- 
sons were quite in a perplexity, and respectfully kissed the 
king’s hand and promised amendment. 

In another farce one sees a respectable Viennese family, 
which has read so many romances about knights that they are 
come to the opinion that the times of knighthood must have 
been much more glorious than those of the present day. 
They then fall asleep, and when they again awake they are in 
knightly costume, and find themselves set back in those happy 
days of chivalry. A robber-knight is announced, who comes 
to ask the hand of the daughter, and the whole family is en- 
raptured at so splendid a match. But they soon become 
acquainted with the whole coarseness of the times ; they must 
do without all conveniences of life, and at last are led into the 
castle-dungeon to die of hunger. With that they all wish 
themselves back again into our happy times, in which there is 
roasted Handle and where one can drive to Hitzing and go to 


230 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


the theatre in the Vorstadt. Cured of their whims, the magic 
brings them back again into our better and our happier times. 

Ah, how Naomi wished that that magic-world, of which the 
honorable citizens talked, was but reality! Like the castle 
spirit which turned to stone the detestable bridal-company, 
she would have changed into stone Ladislaf and the two 
women ; yet he should only have been half petrified, like 
Prince Agib in the fairy tale : his brain should still have 
thought, his heart should still have bled, that he might prop- 
erly have felt his pangs. 

They dismounted from the wagon at the barriers. Ladis- 
laf made pretense that he now for the first time recognized 
Naomi, and threw his arm so heavily upon her shoulder that 
she certainly must have felt the effect of it for some time, and 
said laughing, “ See, friend Christian, thou too goest out 
seeking adventures I Now, that I like in thee, my boy ! I 
would properly caress thee because thou dost like the rest of 
us ! ” With these words he embraced and caressed poor 
Naomi with great violence. 

“ Let me be ! ” cried she ; “ I am not of the party ! ” And 
with looks which were more eloquent than words she turned 
herself from him and offered to one of the two girls her arm, 
who willingly took it. 

In the interior of the city of Vienna there are many streets 
which are connected one with another by gates and the courts 
of private houses. A stranger who is unacquainted with the 
locality finds himself all at once in another neighboring street, 
when he had fancied himself to be entering a house. 

Ladislaf and his lady went into one such house ; Naomi 
followed after them. 

“ But where are they ? ” asked she of her companion. 

This one laughed, and led Naomi up a winding stone stairs? 
but no Ladislaf was to be seen. The girl pulled at the bell- 
handle which hung at the door. 

“ Where are the others? ” asked Naomi again. 

“ They are there, and we are here I ” replied her companion. 
The door opened ; an elderly, well-dressed lady, with a silver 
branch-candlestick in her hand, welcomed them. 

“ The deuce 1 ’’ exclaimed Naomi, and flew stumbling down 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


231 


the steps. She saw by the light that she was followed ; she 
quickly, therefore, entered the street : here also nobody was 
visible. “ Ladislaf ! ” stammered she, and bit her lip so vio- 
lently that it bled. 

Half an hour afterwards she was in her dwelling in the 
Prater : Ladislaf was not yet come. She threw herself, with- 
out undressing, on her bed ; but no tears came to her eyes, 
no sigh escaped from her lips. Some one was now heard to 
approach; it was. he. 

They looked silently at each other. 

“ Thou hast probably amused thyself well ! ” said Ladislaf, 
with a malicious countenance. 

Naomi was silent and looked at him with a proud and 
sorrowful expression ; he scornfully returned her glance, and 
then laughed aloud. 

Her lips trembled as if they would open themselves to 
speak ; but she was still silent. 

“ Hast thou not seen,’’ said he, “ that my mare, when she 
stands loose in her stall, follows me neighing when I go 
through? She does that out of pure love, and therefore I 
caress her. Thou also followest me, but from quite another 
impulse. I might be tempted also to caress thee, but according 
to deserts ! ” 

With these words he took up a switch from the table, and 
lashed the air with it so close to Naomi that the end caught 
her neck. 

It was the bite of the tarantula ! Cold as ice, she stared at 
him. “ Ladislaf! ” was the only word which she could utter, 
she then left the room. 

Josephine slept. 

Without, all was still and dark ; the roll of carriages alone 
sounded in the distance. The night was bright with stars ; 
Charles’s-wain pointed toward the North. Did Naomi think 
on her home in the north, or did her thoughts linger in the 
wooden abode of the son of the Pariah, with the proud Ladis- 
laf ? Not a tear moistened her eye, not a sigh sounded from 
her lips ; with her eye riveted on the starry image, she went 
on thoughtfully a few paces. So gazed once Ariadne across 
the sea, when she was convinced that Theseus had forsaken 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


232 

her. Hers was the smile of Medea when she met Jason at 
Kreusa. 

On the self-same night, at the self-same hour, upon the 
monotonous high-road of Zealand, two other eyes were fixed 
upon the self-same star, but as hopefully and trustfully as 
Leander when he threw himself into the waves of the Helles- 
pont and swam toward the fire which Hero had kindled for 
him. 

Along the high-road of Zealand Christian travelled alone 
this night, on his way to Copenhagen. He had come to the 
conviction that he should learn nothing which was proper to 
be known with Mr. Knepus, and that he must go out into the 
world if he were to do any good. Peter Vieck was wrathful 
about it, and had said, “ For my part, Christian may steer his 
own vessel himself! ” Lucie had wept; but Christian’s un- 
derstanding was matured. He carried with him letters of 
introduction, and as there was one amongst them to one of 
the royal footmen, he dreamed of something quite different to 
mere promises and shakes of the hand. The quiet summer 
night was pleasant in the highest degree ; the postilion blew a 
hunting-song, and echo repeated the slow tones from the 
heights opposite to Antvorskov.^ Beyond all others shone 
one bright star in heaven ; it was Cygnus — the swan, as the 
inhabitants of the South call it. That is my star of fortune, 
thought Christian, as he asked his travelling-companion the 
name of this star. “ The evening-hen we call it, ” replied he 
of whom the inquiry was made. 

Christian thought upon Naomi ; but she gave free course 
to her thoughts, let them seek out every bitter flower which 
had grown up in her heart within the last few months, and 
from every flower she sucked in poison. 

She listened ; she thought she heard the dashing of the 
Danube. A falling star flew through the air, as some day the 
steam-balloon will cut through the clouds. 

She turned back to the home where Ladislaf slept ; but she 
remained on the ground-floor, seated herself on the lowest 
step of the stairs, laid her arm on the balustrade, and leaned 

^ Antvorskov was in ancient times a celebrated monastery, and is still a 
large estate near Slagelse. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


233 


her head in her hand. She slept as the Arab sleeps, who 
slumbers with his mortal enemy in the same tent : they have 
eaten and drunk with each other ; hospitality is the sacred 
shield which stands between the two. They offer to each 
other the hand and — sleep, but their last thought is, We meet 
in another place ! The son of the Pariah and the daughter 
of Israel have Asiatic blood ; the hot sun glows in it 


CHAPTER XXXI. 


“ Ladislaus ! Ladislaus ! sounds anew, and the same voice cries after- 
ward still louder : No ! ” — Castelli. 

“ It is a strange thing : I spoke German and thou Danish, and yet we 
understood each other in a trice. Yes, my friend, the language lies in the 
eyes and its key in the heart.” — Album leaf for H. C. Andersen, by 
Castelli. 

I WILL hence, said Naomi to Josephine, the rider with 
the waving plumes in her turban and the fluttering ban- 
ners, — “I will hence, let me find bread or death.” 

Josephine laughed. “ We will drive this forenoon together 
to Josephsdorf and Kloster Neuburg,” said she ; “ we two in 
the little cabriolet, with the fleet-footed Orlando ; I will, for 
your sake, set at defiance the scandal of driving out alone 
with the young, fiery jockey. You will then get into a better 
temper, and Ladislaf will kiss away the marks which the switch 
has made on your lovely neck : and then there will be a rec- 
onciliation feast, in which we can all of us take part.” 

“ Never ! ” answered Naomi. 

“ Indeed ! no misanthropy and no repentance ! ” ^ said Jo- 
sephine ; “ now that will look still merrier.” 

‘‘ Assist me in getting a passport to Hungary or Bavaria,” 
prayed Naomi : “ it is all one where I go, if I can only get 
away and never see him again.” 

First of all we will take our drive,” replied Josephine ; 
“we will taste the chocolate in Josephsdorf, and look down 
from the mountains and see whether the valley of the Danube 
cannot awaken in you the desire to remain here. One must 
not overhasten, must never take too great steps ; which, after 
all, are not becoming to ladies.” 

^ The Leopold' s Day ; or^ No Misanthrophy and No Repentance^ — a piece 

which at that time was often given at the Volk’s theatre Author^ J 

Note* 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


235 

“ It is not the first time that he has filled my heart with poi- 
son,” said Naomi. “ In Toplitz, fourteen days after I had 
left my home for his sake, I understood him, and read in his 
heart as in an open book ; but yet at that time he acted with 
both prudence and circumspection. My determination is 
made ! ” 

The cabriolet was brought up ; they mounted and drove 
away. In the long avenues of the Vorstadt they met many 
people driving and on horseback. The young gentlemen sa- 
luted Josephine; several ladies cast smiling looks at Naomi. 
The road ascended now to the mountain, from whence the 
fine view is enjoyed over the beautiful and blooming valley of 
the Danube. 

“Just look ! ” said Josephine, “how gloriously the many ave- 
nues between the city and the suburbs look ! The tower of 
St. Stephen’s Church rises up boldly above all other buildings ; 
and do you not see the Danube, with the lovely green islands ? 
Those blue mountains lie in Hungary. It is this view which 
always presents itself before my eyes when I hear the song, 
‘ Yet once more the lovely country ! ’ Certainly, Austria is 
much more beautiful than Denmark ! ” 

“Each country resembles the other !” said Naomi. “We 
have in Jutland mountains quite as lofty as these, and the 
Lesser Belt and the Sound present afar more magnificent view 
than the Danube. I know only one advantage which Vienna 
has over Copenhagen, and that is its milder air and its prox- 
imity to Italy.” 

“ The Finlanders long after their marches, the Esquimaux 
after their snow ! ” replied Josephine, laughing. 

“ I do not long after Denmark, neither will I ever return 
there,” said Naomi ; “but neither will I remain here. I am 
a free woman, no Austrian, and they will not prevent my leav- 
ing the country.” 

“But Ladislaf would prevent it,” returned Josephine, — 
“ would endeavor to prevent it, because thereby he could tor- 
ment you whenever he was in the humor for it.” 

They were here interrupted in their conversation by the 
grave-digger of the little place, who invited them in to take a 
view of the corpses, which were more than a hundred years 


ONLY A FIDDLER t 


236 

old, and which yet stand unconsumed in the burial-vaults of 
the church, and look now as if they had only been yesterday 
placed there. 

“We prefer seeing living people,” said Josephine. 

But there were right beautiful curiosities there, the old man 
assured them. It was scarcely an hour before, he said, that a 
Polish gentleman had gone through, and he had found the 
things so interesting that he had noted down all in his journal. 
Yet notwithstanding this the gentleman in so doing had for- 
gotten his journal ; but it must be that very day taken to the 
police, and the gentlemen there could give certain intelligence 
about all travellers, so that he hoped before evening that the 
book would be restored into the hand of the Polack. 

That which was written was in Danish. Naomi seemed to 
know the hand; she turned over the leaves of the book in- 
quisitively, and read here and there in it. The remarks had 
not all been written for everybody’s reading. 

“The strange gentleman must be from Denmark,” said 
Naomi. 

“ From the King of Denmark ? ” asked the old man in as- 
tonishment. “ I saw him here at the time of the congress ; 
he had white hair, and was as kind and polite as our good 
Emperor Franz. Whenever I go by the Stockameise I always 
must look at King Frederick the Dane.”^ The old man be- 
came more and more eloquent, yet Naomi did not listen to 
him, but read full of curiosity in the journal, and smiled and 
blushed in so doing. 

“ Was the stranger here an hour ago ? ” asked she. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied the old grave-digger, “ but I do not know 
in what direction he is gone, yet I fancy toward the city.” 

“ Show us your church ! ” said Naomi, and they now went 
in with the old man. But Naomi inquired much more fre- 
quently about the foreign traveller than about the objects and 
curiosities which were shown to her : the journal seemed to 
lie much more upon her heart than the historical intelligence 
which the old man communicated to her about the well-pre- 
served corpses. 

1 As already remarked, every shop in Vienna has a picture as a sign, and 
directly opposite the celebrated Stockameise there stands a shop with the 
sign of Frederick VI., king of Denmark. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


237 

The two were again seated in their cabriolet ; the fiery Or- 
lando carried his head aloft, and trotted rapidly with them 
toward the convent, the lofty cupola of which, with its imperial 
crown, showed itself magnificently in the blue air 

They entered the vaulted convent-hall. There stood a 
stranger. Naomi trembled ; he, of all persons in the world, 
she would not have met. Yes, he it was whose presence the 
journal had announced ; she was not under a mistake ; it was 
the Count, — he whom she called her father. 

He bowed, and spoke a few passing words to Josephine ; 
Naomi went past him without his getting sight of her. 

“ There is not so much pomp and affluence here as in 
Kloster-Molk,” said Josephine, “ but yet I love this old build- 
ing that is so dear to me from my childhood. How often have 
I run from here to Castle Leopold! From above there, they 
say, the Duchess’s veil flew down and got caught in a thorn- 
bush, which then stood where now the Kloster is built.” 

“ I am not at all in a state of mind for your stories,” said 
Naomi, and her voice trembled ; “ come, make haste, for we 
cannot stay here ! The foreign gentleman is a relation of 
mine.” 

She drew Josephine to the cabriolet, which waited outside 
for them. They were just about to mount as the Count came 
out of the church. 

“ I beg your pardon,” said he, “ but is not this convent cele- 
brated for its wine-cellars? There should be a tun here 
which belongs to the curiosities of the country.” 

“I have heard of it, ” said Josephine, “but I have never 
seen it.” 

“ Here is the tun, your honor,” cried the cooper close be- 
hind them, who, together with one of his journeymen, was 
busied in hooping barrels. 

“ Have you not a desire to see the celebrated tun ? ” asked 
the Count. 

Josephine, embarrassed, looked at Naomi, who was immedi- 
ately collected. She bowed to the Count, and entered with 
Josephine the work-place. This was a large vault of brick- 
work in which lay round about great and small wine-barrels, 
the king of which, however, was the well-known tun, which 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


238 

holds a thousand and one gallons. By means of a ladder one 
might get to the top of this. The bung-hole is so great that 
one can comfortably descend into the tun through it, and the 
interior space is large enough for a dance. 

“ The tun has just lately been cleaned out,” said the cooper, 
“ and the cellar-master has had this beautiful verse set upon 
it here.” The Count read, — 

“ A hundred and thirty years were told 
By me within this cellar cold ; 

Then thousands on my back were pressing, 

Yet that to me was not distressing.” 

“ Yes,” said the cooper, “thousands have danced upon his 
back who now lie in the grave. But the tun is still strong and 
polished, it will know our children’s children as great-grand- 
mothers and great-grandfathers ! Certainly that it will ! But 
you must descend into it, or else you cannot rightly become 
acquainted with it.” 

Naomi sprang up the ladder and descended into the tun ; 
the Count followed her, but his demeanor expressed aston- 
ishment, for the way and manner in which Naomi descended 
betrayed her sex. Josephine peeped only through the open- 
ing into the tun ; it seemed to her to be a large room.^ Na- 
omi danced around the Count, whilst her thoughts wandered 
over mountain and valley. 

Before long she was again sitting beside Josephine in the 
cabriolet and driving away. 

“ Do you know these two ? ” asked the Count of the 
cooper ; but he shook his head. 

“They were riders from the Prater,” said the journeyman : 
“ it was Mamsell Josephine and the little Jockey. They 
understand riding and doing tricks. The jockey is not good 
for much in that way.” 

The light' cabriolet took the road along the Danube. 

“ I must and will go hence ! ” said Naomi. “ You have 
indeed relations in Munich, Josephine ; give me a letter to 
them ! I have yet several things of value ; for eight days I 

1 The length of this gigantic tun is 14 feet 4 inches, the diameter 12 feet 
— Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


239 

have no need to beg, and a week can bring about a great 
deal.” 

Whole folios have been written about love, every degree of 
it has been run through and sung about ; very little, however, 
has been said about the hatred in love, and yet this is just as 
rich in shades, just as strong as love itself. The hatred of 
love is a devilish delight, but yet it is a delight to hate 
burningly, to hate him who maliciously trampled upon our best 
joy, our most innocent pleasure ! All men know the feeling 
of hatred — it is an animalcule which lives in the blood of 
men. 

Naomi was wounded ; and as the sylphide loses its Psyche- 
wings and dies with the first sensual embrace, so with her had 
the first harsh treatment killed love. As the wine in the cup 
of Tantalus vanished when a drop of it was shed, so was it 
with Naomi’s love. 

“ I thought to have exalted myself so much above others,” 
pondered she, “ and I have humbled myself to the son of a 
gypsy, whose nobility alone consists in the deceitful natural 
play of their bodies. Now his form disgusts me like the skin 
of the snake.” 

“You are more of a man than a woman,” said Josephine. 

“ In case of need I could help myself through the world,” 
replied Naomi. “ Ladislaf thinks, probably, that I am like the 
rest of women, who have their hearts for three or four days 
full of gall, but then become weak and appeasable. I am no 
longer so ! With us people say, ‘ One misfortune does not come 
alone ! ’ My father has this day met me ; he was the gentle- 
man with whom we conversed in Kloster-Neuburg. If he 
should have recognized me? I have always thought the 
prodigal son despicable, not because he ate with the swine, but 
because he again turned back. He must have known his 
father to be a weak man. To accept of marks of kindness 
and benefits may be called passports to make up for mortifi- 
cations endured. Will the world be ever in a condition to 
show one benefactor who never afterward wounded the feelings 
or overlooked the receiver of his benefits ? I will hence ! 
Ladislaf is to me as the post-boy who has driven me a 
station : my weakness was a dream, — a foolish dream in the 
diligence ! ” 


240 


ONL Y A FIDDLER ! 


The police in Vienna are able to give intelligence of the 
departure of every stranger, the old grave-digger in Josephs- 
dorf said ; and for that reason he had sent to them the forgotten 
pocket-book : before evening it was in the hands of its owner. 
“ The police know about everybody,” the old man had said ; 
and therefore they were aware likewise this morning that there 
was a young man in the horse-rider’s company in the Prater 
who was called Christian, who was of a fine, almost femininely 
delicate figure, and was commonly called the little Jockey; 
the police said not a word about his possibly being a lady in 
disguise. 

The Count wished to be present at the performance this 
evening. It began. Josephine floated away on the back of 
her horse with waving banners ; Bajazzo struck the wheel with 
his grandmother on his back ; Ladislaf appeared this evening 
as a Greek, in dark red satin. The tall cap accorded ex- 
cellently with his proud countenance ; the coal-black eyes 
sparkled beneath the strong eyebrows ; and again around that 
mouth of antique beauty showed itself the disdainful smile 
which was peculiar to him. Never did a handsomer gladiator 
enter the arena. The most stormy applause welcomed him 
on all sides ; but that moved him not, for he was just as much 
accustomed to it as to the music to which he sprang round the 
course. Within, his mind brooded the poison which the smile 
of his lips betrayed. He knew that Naomi, whom he had 
seen at the commencement of the performance, would set off 
during it ; he had been informed of it ; he knew that she had 
obtained a passport which enabled her to travel to Munich. 
She was the first woman who had dared to defy him. This 
must be revenged ; he would torment her ; and that was easy 
to do. Without doubt she travelled at this very moment extra- 
post, or rode on her way to Linz ; but the diligence went this 
evening the very same way, and at this moment a place for 
him was taken in it. He would overtake her — meet with her 
he must ; and if he doubted as to his success in inducing her 
to return with him, yet it was in his power in this meeting 
with her to distress her in the most acute manner, and to place 
her in a most unpleasant situation. She was a lady, and her 
passport was drawn in the name of a man ; that was sufficient 


ONLY A FIDDLERl 


241 

to shame her. In this conviction he smiled still more sneer- 
ingly than common, and took the boldest leaps in the air upon 
his flying horse, who knew his rider so well, and people ap- 
plauded still more enthusiastically than ever. 

The Count sat close by the lists ; he forgot for some mo- 
ments her for whom his eye had in vain sought, as he joined 
in the unanimous plaudits when Ladislaf left the circus. At 
the close of the performance, Ladislaf drove with a groom in 
the little cabriolet to the city. 

In the post-court stood the diligence ready to start ; the 
passengers took their places. One was going to Kloster 
Neuburg, a second to Salzburg, a third to Paris, and so on. 
In the furthest backseat sat a young man with a handkerchief 
tied over his head, and his cap drawn over his ears ; he was 
suffering from toothache, and was on his way to Munich. 
Opposite to him was the place assigned to Ladislaf. Each 
one now arranged his legs with his opposite neighbor, so as to 
sit comfortably. Ladislaf and Naomi were thus placed to- 
gether, either by fate or by chance. She recognized him, but 
would not trust her eyes until he spoke ; then she was con- 
vinced of his presence. 

She had thought it best to travel with the diligence, be- 
cause it went through without any stay. That now Ladislaf 
was here among the passengers prophesied no good, for he 
was here on her account : what would be the end of it ? 

The postilion blew his horn, the whip cracked, leave-takings 
were heard, and the carriage rolled across the Stephen’s Platz, 
and through the lighted streets. The performance was just 
at an end in the Burg theatre ; the spectators streamed along 
the street, and all the passengers looked out from the carriage 
to see if they could recognize an acquaintance. Naomi alone 
laid her head more backward, and turned her face to one side, 
that it might not be seen by the light of the lamps. They 
were soon through the green avenue, and in the suburb of 
Maria-hilf. All chatted and endeavored to pass on the time 
pleasantly; Naomi alone pretended that she already slept, 
although the consciousness of not one of the travellers was 
more alert than hers. She thought over her condition, and 
considered upon what was the most advisable for her to do. 

16 


242 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


She might pass the night very well in the carriage — there 
would be no occasion for her to get out ; but when day 
dawned, when they had to take breakfast at St, Polten, what 
then ? Ladislaf spoke to her, but she made no answer ; she 
trembled in every limb, and that he certainly would observe, 
for their knees almost touched each other. 

They had already travelled for an hour, and were now in 
the little village of Hiitteldorf, which, like Hitzing, is a sum- 
mer residence of the Viennese. The latter, however, lies 
nearer to Vienna, and is at the same time a summer sojourn 

for the court, and has much noise, dust, and bustle. Hiittel- 

dorf, on the contrary, is more rural, and possesses a more 
open view over the green low hills, so that the country villas 
lying here have a trully idyllian site. 

The diligence drew up before the inn. The gentlemen got 
out, Naomi followed their example, but she was determined 
not again to return. She quickly turned into the first little 
street, which led into a meadow, and ran on with all her 

might. At the end of this lay, on the right, a small country- 

house. Naomi concealed herself in the ditch which inclosed 
the garden ; her heart beat, she listened whether any one was 
following her. 

The post-horn sounded ; she heard the diligence again 
rolling on, and said in her inmost heart with Riguebourg, but 
with different feeling, “ Now he is gone ! ” 

At that very moment loud laughter resounded in the gar- 
den ; ladies and gentlemen came out of the little gate and 
went across the meadow. They were a merry company, and 
every name which she heard was well known to her. Mrs. 
Von Weissenthurn, the intellectual poetess, and Costenoble, 
the actor, were among them. 

“You will read your Sappho to me to-morrow, will you not, 
Grillparzer ? ” said the lady ; and all talked merrily together. 

“ Good-night ! good-night ! sleep well ! ” resounded from 
the other end of the lane. “ Good-night ! good-night ! ” and 
one of the gentlemen turned back over the meadow. Prob- 
ably this was the host, who had so far accompanied his guests ; 
he had a dog with him, which suddenly sprang into the ditch 
where Naomi sat, pointed his ears, and then began loudly to 
bark. The gentleman approached the spot. 


ONLY A FIDDLER 1 


243 


“ Who is there ? ” he asked. 

Naomi rose. 

“ That is a bad resting-place for the night,” said he ; the 
dew falls ; you were not thinking of passing the night there ? ’ 

“Pardon me,” said Naomi, “with whom have I the honor 
of speaking ! ” 

The gentleman laughed. “ I am Castelli,” replied he ; “ and 
you, my friend ? ” 

“ Castelli ! ” repeated Naomi ; “ the poet ? ” 

“Yes, I am,” replied he. 

“I have known you for years, ” said Naomi ; “your poems 
have caused me many happy hours. As a little child I learned 
your ‘Praise of the Little Ones.’ You occupied me a long 
way from here, and then it never occurred to me that we 
should meet, and meet thus.” 

“You are not a German,” said the Poet; “and, if I may 
judge from your soft accent, I should suppose you to be a 
Dane.” 

“ I am so,” returned Naomi. 

“ Did not I directly think so ? ” said the gentleman ; “ there 
was here this evening a countryman of yours, a young doctor.” 

“ I will entirely confide in you,” said Naomi, “ for it has al- 
ways appeared to me that a poet must have a warmer, a no- 
bler, and a better heart than ordinary people.” 

“ I cannot quite assent to that,” returned the gentleman ; 
“most poets have only this advantage above other men, that 
they can apply their own experience to others, and that they 
express what they feel and think.” With these words he 
opened the gate, and they entered the little flower-garden. 

“ Chance has conducted me to you,” now said Naomi ; 
“ you must counsel me, you must help me.” And she then re- 
lated to him that she was a lady, and a Dane ; that she had 
left a tranquil, care-free life at home, in order to be deceived 
in all, even the very least of her hopes. She told him all 
her adversities, and what had happened to her until this very 
evening. 

The good-natured, excellent man felt himself, as any one 
else would have done under similar circumstances, somewhat 
embarrassed by this confidence of poor Naomi ; for what actu- 


244 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


ally could he think of such a girl ! The Danish ambassador 
was certainly the proper person to whom she ought to apply, 
he thought, But now it was so late at night ; she was so 
handsome ; she was so forlorn, and her lips breathed elo- 
quence. The Poet sent for his housekeeper, and Naomi was 
now led into the little guest-chamber, which looked over the 
mountains. 

In the still night she opened her window. The waning 
moon stood low in the heavens ; before her horn wholly dis- 
appeared an important step must be taken on her path of fate. 
Dreamily she lost herself in thought, whilst her eye was di- 
rected to the starry host : but her thoughts were fertile ; she 
laid a plan for the following day. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


“ Farewell — thou windest thine arm about mine ? ’ 

Thou boldest me fast — I shall not go ? ” — Castelli. 

“ Know’st thou the land where the lemons are blooming ? 

Thither — Goethe. 

T he next morning, as Naomi made her appearance at 
the tea-table, the Poet extended to her kindly his hand ; 
his dog sprang toward her, and she caressed the animal. Its 
barking had been the introduction to her acquaintance with 
the Poet. 

“It is a faithful animal, quite devoted to me I ” said the 
good host ; “ it would grieve me if it were to die before I did.” 

At this moment a cabriolet rolled hither along the little 
street, and drew up at the entrance to the garden. They were 
morning visitors. It was the young physician, Naomi’s coun- 
tryman, of whom Castelli had spoken ; another foreigner ac- 
companied him, a Dane likewise, who wished to make the ac- 
quaintance of the beloved Poet. It was the Count, whom Na- 
omi called father. 

The Doctor was possessed of that which is peculiar to many 
Danes abroad — great susceptibility of all that is new, to- 
gether with an easily excited love for father-land, which soon 
becomes home-sickness. In an especial manner was he given 
to drawing comparisons, and where is there more opportunity 
for so doing than in Vienna ! The present inhabitants have 
so many things in common with the Copenhageners, as well in 
advantages as in trifles, that the resemblance strikes the eyes 
of both, only the Viennese are a gayer people than those of 
the northern capital. The Prater with its swings, and all its 
merry exhibitions, is our park ; the palace of Schonbrunn is 
altogether our Friedrichsberg ; the Stephen’s Church with its 
lofty tower, is, to be sure, something quite peculiar to the Iin- 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


246 

perial city : but the Doctor recollected St. Saviour’s Church, 
the tower of which is also a rarity — a tower around which a 
spiral staircase winds, which is provided with a gilded balus- 
trade, and which conducts him who ascends up to the great 
ball, upon which is throned the copper-man with the waving 
banner. “ If one had from St. Stephen’s tower the view of 
the Hungarian mountains,” said the young Doctor, “ it would 
not be less imposing than that from St. Saviour’s, which looks 
down over the whole Sound and the opposite coast of Swe- 
den.” 

Of all foreign cities, he said, Vienna pleased him the best, 
for there it was so pleasant to live. The families of Jager and 
Sonnenleitner ^ carried him quite back again into Danish do- 
mestic life ; but how very frequently were not melancholy 
feelings excited in his soul, also, from this very cause ! He 
W'as really such a long way removed from his young wife and 
his dear little daughter ! It not unfrequently happened that 
tears came into his eyes when, in the streets of Vienna, he 
met little girls of the same age as his daughter. He said that 
had happened to him that very morning as they drew up at 
the Baumhofe, where a young girl and her little sister were 
tending a goat which grazed there, and was milked whenever 
a passer-by desired to have a draught of goat’s milk. The 
Count talked jestingly about the sentimentality of the young 
man, as he called it. 

“ You do not know what it is to have children,” said the 
Doctor ; “ if you had only such a daughter as I have, you 
would be just like me. A new world full of pleasure would 
open to you. There is a blessedness in the smiles of a child ! 
you should only see how it stretched out its little hands to 
me ! you should only hear its first shout of delight ! O, I 
would wish you a daughter like mine ! ” 

The Count riveted his eyes on Naomi, and then said gravely, 
and in a deep tone of voice, “ I had once a daughter, but she 
is dead ! ” 

He was silent, and the young Physician was somewhat em- 
barrassed j it had not been his intention to wound the Count. 

^ In these two families the Danes have always met with the most 
friendly reception. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


247 

The conversation then turned to the Count’s short stay in 
Vienna, and his projected journey into Italy, whence he would 
return to his native country by way of France. 

In going away, the Poet accompanied his guests through 
the garden ; Naomi remained behind. Nothing could be 
more natural than that he should confide to her country-peo- 
ple that which he had heard, and how he himself had got 
mixed up in the adventure. The Doctor laughed ; but the 
Count became thoughtful and grave. 

They went further across the meadow and through the 
green valley, which extended to the hills. A small footpath 
wound in agreeable mazes through the garden. 

Along this footpath, half an hour afterward, might be seen 
the Count and Naomi walking together ; their conversation 
was carried on in their native tongue. The sparrows twittered 
merrily the while, the flowers sent forth odors as sweetly as if 
the whole of nature breathed pure peace and joy, and the 
snails bathed themselves in the warm sunshine. 

“Naomi,” said the Count, “how could you so far forget 
yourself as to bring shame upon me, and to disgrace yourself 
in the worst manner ? ” 

“ My birth was the consecration thereto,” replied she. “ I 
am to blame ; but many things may speak in my extenuation, 
if such were needful. My existence is a youthful sin, and as 
is the seed so is the fruit.” 

“ What will be your further fate ? ” asked he. 

“That of a thousand others,” she answered; “an exist- 
ence that is not worth life. But I have lived, even if it were 
only for a few days. I, however, became free and independ- 
ent when I was wronged in the cruelest manner, and, for the 
first time, in this moment your glance has a power over me 
which binds me. The world does not regard me as your 
daughter, and you, yourself, do not really believe it. I am 
thus only a stranger to whom you have shown kindness, and 
from whom you may desire obedience. I have not shown it, 
and you cast me off. Our ways part. Every false step, every 
sin, is succeeded by its own punishment ; let me bear mine ! 
One benefit only I beseech of you yet to add to the former 
ones, and this is, that you do not know me.” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


248 

They remained standing under a tree ; the voice of the 
Doctor called them back. 

“ I do not trouble myself about the opinion of the world/* 
continued she, “ but your opinion is everything to me, and 
before you I would desire to stand as before my own con- 
science.” 

“ They are coming ! ” said the Count, as the Poet and the 
Doctor approached them. 

“We are not agreed,” said Naomi, smiling: “the Count 
calls this pale little flower a violet ; but I say that it is only a 
wild little step-mother.” ^ With this she pointed to a flower 
of this kind, which grew on the path. 

“ When cultivated in gardens they attain to extraordinary 
beauty,” said Castelli ; “ but I cannot understand why people 
have given them this name, when they have not at all been 
step-motherly treated.” 

“ They explain why they are so called,” replied Naomi, and 
stooped down to gather one of the flowers. “ Only see here 
the five petals ! two of these are set upon one little seat ; they 
are the two which are set furthest behind — the step-children ; 
these, one on each side, are the mother’s own children — each 
one sits upon its own chair, and this great petal above is the 
step-mother herself — she has indeed two chairs to sit upon.” 

“ That is, in truth, an ingenious explanation,” said the Poet, 
smiling, “ which I have never before heard.” 

“ Thus it is said with us in Denmark,” returned the Phy- 
sician. “ But how strange it is that one always hears of bad 
fitep-mothers, but never of wicked step-fathers ! ” 

“ Their fault is, perhaps, over-indulgence,” said the Count. 

Whether we should accuse them of the same thing will de- 
pend upon our own views of life; in the mean time we trans- 
port ourselves from the Poet’s company to the mountains of 
the Tyrol — there where the young fellows, with flowers in their 
hats, jodelled in the fresh morning air, and sang of their 
Andreas Hofer, as the Swiss do of their William Tell and 
Winkelried. 

Five days are not yet passed since we saw the meeting of 
the Count and Naomi, and heard their conversation about 
1 Pansy. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


249 

bad step-mothers and good step-fathers j and already reality 
shows us a forgiving step-father. 

The light travelling-carriage rolled away along the high- 
road ; foot-passengers, people who drove and who rode, met 
them for the first and for the last time in their lives, and yet 
the Count closed his eyes for sleep. Beside him sat a young 
lady in female travelling costume ; the map of Italy lay open 
on her knee, and “ Mary Ann Stark, ” the well-known guide for 
travellers in Italy, lay at her side. Deep below the road 
foamed the turbulent river, and the clouds hung like fleeces 
upon the lofty peaks. The lady cast a glance upon the wild 
country, and we recognize Naomi. Her thoughts were dream- 
ing of the peninsula, and therefore she did not enjoy the 
present ; they flew to the true country of the Fata Morgana, 
toward Italy’s sacred halls of art. The Alps are their portals ; 
the eagle a sparrow, which builds its nest in their cornice ; 
the pine-trees lift up their lofty columns with their evergreen 
capitals. Here is the home of music ; here blooms the rose 
in the Alpine snow. The earth on which thy foot treads is 
drunken with the blood of her noblest, is sanctified by the 
marble with which the temples of antiquity are reared. Into 
the dead stone is life breathed ; it becomes an image which rav- 
ishes thy soul. The sea is beautifully blue as the petal of the 
corn-flower, transparent as the drops of the fountain. Houris, 
lovely as those from the paradise of Mahomet, smile on thee, 
land of music and of coloring — Italia ! 

'‘Thither!” sang the poet of Mignon, and a thousand 
hearts repeat, as a lamenting echo, the words of painfully 
sweet longing, which will never be realized. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


“Nature was not the poor man’s friend ; 
Hard-heai ted nurse was she : 


Your graciousness can that amend, 
And Nature shall ashamed be. ” 


Karl Bagger. 


here is among the treasures of French literature a spir- 



Jl ited treatise on garrets, in which the author says, that as 
in mankind the understanding and mind have their seat in the 
uppermost part of the human body, so is also the case among 
the authors and artists of Paris ; they live in garrets. Scribe 
has written a vaudeville on the Parisian artist-life, and has 
given to it the title Za Mansarde des Artistes. But in all great 
cities, as well as in Paris, it is the lot of poor artists to be 
placed up aloft with respect to their dwellings. 

Thus was Christian placed in Copenhagen ; up six pair of 
stairs dwelt he in a little back garret, with the widows who had 
once provided a lodging for him, Lucie, and her mother, 
during the short time they spent in Copenhagen. His view 
extended over chimneys and roofs to the high tower upon 
w'hich the night-watchman took his stand. If the rich people 
who dwelt in the five stories below him had the whole lively 
street before them, he could, up there, look over the whole 
blue vault of heaven in which the stars, on clear evenings, 
were kindled. 

As regarded his chamber, it was much smaller than the one 
which he had inhabited at Mr. Knepus’s ; it was, as it weie, 
in the shape of a triangle, for from the door by which one 
entered it ran obliquely toward both sides, with one excep- 
tion — that of the projecting window. The bed was a sort 
of alcove ; directly opposite, in the roof, was set a pane of 
glass, through which in the night he could contemplate the 
moon and stars. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


25 ^ 

With a thankful heart he praised the dear God for his rare 
fortune : he had four engagements, and should receive about 
sixpence an hour; two others furnished him with a dinner 
without cost, four days in the week ; and thus there were only 
three days remaining on which he would have to live on bread 
and butter. But now, also, it was requisite that he always 
should be well dressed ; he therefore repaired himself the 
somewhat worn apparel, brushed it up and stitched it, and, if 
a white-worn place became visible, he dyed it black with ink. 
His boots, too, he mended himself ; that they were a little fail- 
ing in the soles mattered nothing, so long as the upper-leathers 
were whole. His behavior was a little awkward, and it would 
be still more so if a little hole had to be concealed, and he rec- 
ollected that his coat permitted no violent movement with his 
arms. Much rather would he suffer in his own person than 
betray his poverty. He endeavored to conceal from his 
hostess that three times in the week he enjoyed no dinner, by 
taking a walk out about the hour of that meal ; and then he 
made little tours either through the citadel, that he might 
devour his bread and butter on the shore of the Sound, or 
toward the King’s Garden, to amuse himself, like the nurses 
and their children, with a view of the playful fountains. 

He dined on Fridays and Sundays with the counselor-of- 
war, who had once sailed with Peter Vieck to Copenhagen. 
That was a genteel family ; but the genteelest person in it was 
the eldest son, the student, who by means of his clothes was 
a handsome man, and, because of his little entertainments, 
had attained a certain consequence among his comrades. He 
never exchanged a word with Christian, never saluted him 
when he entered the house, nor when he left it again. The 
mother spoke of his virtuous life, and the young seamstress 
blushed at what she said. If strangers were at table, Chris- 
tian was displaced ; it could not at all amuse him to be in 
company with people with whom he was not acquainted ! Be- 
sides, could he not have brushed his coat so as to make it fit 
to appear in company ? 

On Tuesdays and Thursdays he dined at the lackey’s, the 
royal lackey’s — an acquaintance who, he confidently hoped, 
would assist him to fortune and honor, for this man could 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


252 

speak of him to the great ; and this, madame, his wife, hinted 
at every moment. Her husband could go in and out there 
where counselors-of-war, and much genteeler gentlemen, must 
stand before the door and wait. She never, however, called 
her husband lackey, but said that he was connected with the 
royal family. 

The little daughter of this marriéd pair was now the object 
of Christian’s engagement in the family. The little girl was 
called after the whole royal family, and had received in baptism 
the following names : Marie, Karoline, Wilhelmine, Char- 
lotte, Amalie, Juliane, Friederike ; but her every-day name was 
Mieke, which was an abbreviation of the queen’s name, Marie 
Friederike. 

He only found it comfortable in his own little chamber, 
although it was cold here as the winter came on. Turf and 
wood he purchased by pennyworths, and it froze great ice- 
flowers upon his windows. Neither had he every evening the 
means of purchasing a thin candle, but he could play his 
fantasies very well on his violin in the dark. 

“ There stands a maiden for you on your window,” said the 
servant girl, as she swept out his room and pointed at the 
frozen window-pane. The hostess had shaken her head 
thoughtfully, for exactly such a maiden, seven years before, 
had stood upon the window at which her husband sat shoe- 
making. “ Dost thou see, mother,” he had said, “ the hand- 
some maiden here ? She beckons me ! ” and two months after 
he lay in his grave. That must have been the cold death- 
maiden, who was come for him ; but in this case it could not, 
indeed, mean anything like that, as Christian was a young 
man. The thought of cold death thrilled through him, and 
in the midst of want which encompassed him, and without any 
prospect of a better future, the desire for life awoke in him, 
and, seizing his fiddle, he forgot hunger and cold in the 
exquisite melodies which he drew from his instrument. 

On many a solitary evening were these tones his only supper, 
until the extreme coldness disabled his fingers for the delicate 
movement. Soul and sentiment were in these fantasies, but 
nobody heard them. Fortune, fortune which alone can cherish, 
would not mount so many pair of stairs to seek out genius in 
the garret. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


253 

Mendelssohn-Bartholdy has written several musical com- 
positions, which he calls “ Songs without Words,” but every 
spirit kindred to his own will read text to them in his own 
soul. To Christian’s violin playing we also could give words ; 
might they only find hearers in the drawing-rooms of the 
powerful ! might but one being of true talent be saved in a 
century from perishing through want and sorrow ! 

You mighty ones of the earth ! you understand the works 
of the painter and the sculptor because they ornament your 
halls and your rooms of state, but that which the poet and 
musician create is still to you an enigma — the richest treas- 
ures of the soul, which neither moth nor rust can corrupt ; you 
only can comprehend it when a century has taught you the 
value of these divine works : Let not, we beseech of you, 

TRUE TALENT, WHILST YET ON EARTH, SUFFER SHIPWRECK ! 
Will these words, too, like Christian’s violin playing, sound 
unheard ? 

Elegance reigned in the dwelling of the lackey, — that is to 
say, in furniture and a brilliant collection of books. All the 
books were bound in morocco, yet when they were looked at 
they w'ere found to be the annual volumes of the “ Citizen’s 
Friend ” to which this outward honor had happened. 

The lady of the house was fond of reading, and therefore 
she was a member of a book-club, from which she was allowed 
to take two volumes at a time, mostly a horrible robber-ro- 
mance for day-reading, and a love-story for the evening. She 
acted also in a German dramatic society, because she had 
been confirmed in a German church. 

Upon the whole, she estimated Christian’s talent. Every 
artist has, like Goethe, his Bettina, only they do not all of 
them write. Madame was thus the one who admired most 
Christian’s talent, or rather, she was the only one who gave 
words to her admiration. Christian was always invited when- 
ever she had company, that is to say, to bring his fiddle with 
him ; and then he played to the company, and undertook late 
at night the not yet, with us, wholly abolished social bond- 
service, of attending home the ladies. Often when he was 
dejected in spirit she assured him that he was a much more 
fortunate man than thousands of poor starving wretches, who 
were a deal worse off than himself. 


OJVLV A FIDDLER! 


254 

That which is said of a great portion of the critics is very 
true, that they chew through a book in order to find out 
whether there be not some little stones which will crack be- 
tween their teeth. Such chewing had become a continual 
custom of the war-counselor ; but as the stomach only, and 
not the heart, with him was spoiled, he divided books into 
t^vo portions, — those which were examined in mild weather 
when he was in good humor, and those which were to be 
grumbled at in bad weather. The good counselor-of-war 
annoyed himself and many others ; they mutually forgot that 
in another world, where we must all of us be submitted to 
criticism, the errors of the press will be corrected, false read- 
ings improved, and we shall certainly go together hand-in- 
hand and smile at our common zeal in the boyish years of our 
earthly life. A criticism is always only the judgment of one 
man, and it often only shows whether the dreamer stands 
above or below him upon whom he passes sentence. 

The war-counselor showed kind sympathy toward Chris- 
tian, and therefore the young man loved him ; through his 
influence he was to have the so-called honor of being listened 
to between the acts of the dramatic company, of which the 
war-counselor was a director. That would be a great and a 
decided step in his fortune ! he hoped thereby to excite an 
interest in many persons. 

“ I have spoken in your favor to my colleagues,” said the 
war-counselor to Christian ; “ they are all for you, even the 
manager, who is quite as important as a director.” 

By means of a dirty back-staircase the temple of Thalia in 
the fifth story was reached, in which the actors looked as if 
they had all been set upon a waiter. It was a rehearsal, and 
therefore the greatest disunion and confusion prevailed. The 
lover threatened that he would immediately go his ways if it 
were not permitted to him to interpolate wherever he was not 
able to remember his part. That which he said was just as 
good as that which stood in the book, and it might quite as 
well be permitted to him as to the war-counselor to make 
interpolations. The lady of thirty, who was to act the grand- 
mother, would on no consideration allow that she should be 
painted older : she looked quite old enough, she said, very 
prudishly. In short, all was strife and discord. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


255 

At length the Friday evening came. Christian borrowed a 
suit of black clothes, and his hostess curled his hair with the 
fire-tongs. His cheeks glowed, his heart beat violently, as the 
curtain rose and he now stood there before the whole, for the 
most part, citizen public which stared at him. 

He played extremely well, and the directors received him 
behind the scenes, shook him by the hand, and complimented 
him. A barber, who played the violin himself, and a lottery- 
collector who beat the kettle-drum, sprung upon the stage to 
thank him, and lifted him up into the third heaven by prais- 
ing his flageolet-tones and his wonderful management of his 
instrument. 

“ My fortune is made,’^ thought Christian ; “ this evening 
everybody will speak only of me, will think only of me.” 
Every performer, down to the poor satellite who has only 
spoken the single word “ Back ! ” had thought the same of his 
performance. Not until half-past eleven was the representa- 
tion at an end, and only in regard to him can it be said of 
this sort of pleasure that it holds out. 

Christian could not sleep when he was come back to his 
garret ; he looked out into the star-bright night and thought 
upon his good fortune, on Lucie and Peter Vieck, on warm 
summer days and on Naomi. 

Every letter which he wrote home breathed joy and youth- 
ful courage ; he expressed in them livingly every hope. His 
mother received gladly the sweet thought that his fortune was 
already half made ; he was admitted really into great families, 
and played his violin in the theatre ! In her poverty she im- 
agined it to be a splendid life. She knew his good heart, and 
as God had taken her little child to Himself she got a seat as 
gratis-passenger beside the driver, and set off, although but 
poorly, in the middle of winter, to Copenhagen, that she might 
live there with Christian, of whose good fortune she had told 
all her neighbors and friends. 

It would be such a surprise to her dear son when she ar- 
rived 1 — and so, indeed, it was. 

There sat now the mother and son in that little three-cor- 
nered garret! The snow blew in at the window, and the 
hostess was disconcerted at the visit. 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


256 

“ Things are going on well with thee,’* said Marie : “ with 
me they got worse : but thou hast, indeed, a good heart. I 
thank my God that he has given thee to me for comfort.” 

She slept upon Christian’s bed and he stood at the window, 
at the frozen window, and prayed with a pious heart, — “ Thou 
God of mercy have pity upon us ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 


“More magnificent than we in our North, the beggar lives at the 
angel’s-gate, for he looks on the eternal, the only Rome. ” — Schiller. 

I T is too melancholy in that cold, narrow garret, where the 
mother sleeps and the son suffers. We will leave it ; we 
will flee away out of the cold air and from deep sighs, flee 
away to the large and magnificent saloons of the warm South 
to seek for Naomi, and when we have found her we shall find 
ourselves in the world-famous Rome, the city of remembrances, 
the coliseum of the world. ^ 

The soft air waves toward us, the lamps burn before the im- 
age of the Madonna, where the lovely children kneel and sing, 
with the soft voices of the South, their evening hymn. The 
burning candles shine through the painted windows of the 
churches, where the mass is read and lovers have their meet- 
ings. The peasant and the beggar wrap themselves up in 
their cloaks, and choose for themselves a couch upon the 
broad steps. The masked procession with burning torches 
advances through the narrow, crooked streets. Upon the Pi- 
azza Venezia torches, which are fastened upon iron forks, 
are burning, and papal soldiers on horseback are drawn up 
there as guards. A ball is given at the Duchess Torlonia’s ; 
the greater part of the invited guests are strangers from the other 
side of the mountains ; the colonnades are dazzlingly lighted ; 
busts and statues look as if animated by the flickering light of 
the torches ; the principal staircase is adorned with orna- 
mental shrubs and beautiful carpets, and even the picture 
gallery is a promenade. In the two large saloons dancing 
is going on upon the polished floor, smooth as a mirror ; the 
side rooms are devoted to card-parties and conversation. 

1 “ O Rom .... 

Du werldens Colisee !” — Nicander. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


258 

Steel engravings and English and French newspapers are to 
be found in the library. 

Let us enter into the great dancing-room : magnificent can- 
delabras around the room diffuse a blaze of light ; sixteen 
chandeliers depend from the lofty ceiling. Directly before us 
in the great niche stands a colossal Hercules, who in his wild 
agony has seized upon Lichas by one foot and by his hair to 
dash him against a rock — forming a strange contrast to the 
soft dancing airs and the joyous youth. 

The Count was in conversation with an Italian of an agree- 
able exterior, whose countenance had remarkably pleasing 
features, — that was the sculptor Canova, the pride of Italy. 
He pointed to Naomi, who was floating through the light 
dance on the arm of a young French offlcer. 

“ Of a truth, an uncommonly beautiful girl ! ” said he ; “ a 
perfectly Roman glance ! And yet I am told that she is from 
the North.” 

“ She is my adopted daughter,” replied the Count ; “ the 
young offlcer with whom she dances is the son of the Marquis 
Rebard, one of the most splendid families in Paris. He is a 
young man of spirit and talent ; I have known him ever since 
his fourteenth year.” 

Naomi, full of life enjoyment and in the possession of her 
entire youthful gayety, seemed like a younger sister of Titian’s 
“ Flora,” or a daughter of Raphael’s “ Fornarina,” — at least 
she was related to these portraits. Her round, white arm 
rested upon the shoulder of the Marquis. He was tall and 
slender, his look was full of spirit and life, and he could scarcely 
have attained his three-and-twentieth year. A gay life had, it 
is true, paled the roses of his cheeks, but the fire of passion 
kindled in his eyes. He now conducted Naomi to the rich 
sofa and brought her refreshments. 

In the North, where the snow was now falling, Christian 
dreamed, in his desolate garret, of Naomi ; she sat upon his 
bed, laid her arm around his neck, and kissed him on the 
forehead. In the Prater, in the wooden house, Ladislaf also 
dreamed ; the switch hung beside his bed : he also dreamed 
of Naomi, and laughed jeeringly in his dream. She, however, 
in the enjoyment of the delightful present, had forgotten them 
both. 


ONL Y A FIDDLER / 


259 

One can fancy one’s self here transported to Paris,” said 
the Marquis ; “ everything here reminds me of our saloons. 
But if anybody desires to obtain in Rome a representation of 
the feasts and the bacchanalian mirth of ancient Rome within 
four walls, they must take part in the guild of the young paint- 
ers. They drink crowned with ivy-garlands, and cool the 
burning forehead with fresh roses. As the greater part of the 
many artists who live here are Germans, these festivities have 
therefore a German character. The French, English, and 
Danes join them ; as artists, they all form one great nation, 
that of mind. During my first short residence here, or rather, 
I should say, on my journey through Rome, I was present at 
their cervaro — a sort of modern bacchanal in the Campagna. 
The greater number of those who took part in it were masked, 
and dressed in the most whimsical costumes, and rode thus 
on horses and asses in the very early dawn through the Porta 
Maggiore. There was a Zoroaster, who was drawn by lions, 
which were nothing more than two well-fed asses. Don 
Quixote and Sancho Panza were two excellent figures in the 
pageantry. The whole thing formed a perfect carnival pro- 
cession, in which were knights armed with spears and wooden 
swords, and in which songs in every possible language re- 
sounded in the early morning hour. Outside the city the 
three-headed Cerberus stood before the cave at which we 
halted. Little cobolds danced about on the green heights, 
pistols were fired, and great fires burned. The donkeys 
threw many of the knights into the grass : there lay the Chi- 
nese Tschang-Tsching-Tschu beside her majesty the Queen 
of Sheba. I shall never forget the races j every second 
jockey was a complete Dr. Syntax.” 

“ Are ladies permitted to be present at these festivities ? ” 
asked Naomi. 

“ By all means ! ” replied the 5^oung man. “ I have seen 
natives and strangers — in short, ladies of all nations, there. 
In the Osteria, on the contrary, where the artists assemble 
every evening, no lady is admitted : there then, also, is such a 
smoking of tobacco, that a Frenchman can hardly breathe in 
it. Nevertheless I have amused myself excellently well the 
few evenings I have been able to spend there. One must 


26 o 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


know everything. If I were a painter, I would give these gay 
groups upon canvas ; and if I were a poet, I would also 
write a vaudeville upon what I had heard there.” 

“ You excite in me a great desire to go there,” said Naomi ; 
“ is not there somewhere a peep-hole, through which one could 
be an unobserved spectator of these festivities ? ” 

“ Not unless you could disguise yourself as a gentleman, 
could I venture to introduce you.” 

“ A lady from the North ventures upon no disguise,” re- 
turned Naomi. 

“ One of my friends,” again began the Marquis, “ will be 
introduced to-morrow ; there will then be a Pontemolle, as it 
is called : he will be conducted over the bridge of the Tiber. 
Formerly it was the custom among the artists, when a well- 
known countryman arrived, to go out to meet him as far as 
Pontemolle,^ and to drink to his welcome in the inn there. 
Now this takes place in Rome, in the hostel where the artists 
themselves assemble in an evening. Every artist, be he of 
great or of small repute, is a brother of the order as soon as 
ever he has given a Pontemolle ; that is, has paid for every- 
thing which, on this his evening- of induction, the guests have 
consumed. The waiter sets one jug of wine after another on 
the table ; several right comical ceremonies are likewise per- 
formed, and the new candidate for membership is nominated 
Knight of the Bajocco order, the decoration of which consists 
in a copper bajocco attached to a ribbon, which at every fresh 
Pontemolle is hung around the neck. Horace Vernet, Over- 
beck, and Thorwaldsen are likewise masters of this order.” 

A new dance began, and by this means the conversation 
was interrupted, and, arm-in-arm, the young couple sped away 
over the polished floor. 

At noon next day the light cabriolet of the Marquis drew 
up before the hotel in the Spanish Square, where the Count 
lodged. Naomi was invited to a drive in the garden of the 
Villa Pamphilia. Although one finds one’s self here close 
beneath the walls of Rome, yet still it seems as if one were 
in the country, far removed from the city. Nothing is to be 
seen of Rome ; and the extensive view over the Campagna 
1 Pons Milvius. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLE 


261 


opens itself to our eyes, where the aqueduct, raised upon brick- 
work arches many fathoms high above the earth, and thirty 
miles in length, which conveys water to Rome, bounds the 
horizon in beautiful wavy lines. 

Although it was January, the sun shone warm ; the day re- 
sembled a September day in the North. The proud pine-trees 
lifted their evergreen heads into the pure blue air ; laurel-trees, 
especially the Lauro-cerasiis^ formed the undergrowth, and 
gave to the whole a summer-like appearance. Yellow oranges 
hung between the green leaves ; roses and anemones bloomed ; 
and round about, in the walks, sprang forth the water in little 
jets from vases and columns. Naomi spoke again of her great 
desire to accompany the Marquis to the Osteria. She had, 
she said, had a male suit of attire and a blouse made for the 
approaching carnival ; and besides this she had (but of this 
she said nothing) also her jockey costume from Vienna, which, 
however, it would have been impossible for her to have worn 
again, because it would have reminded her of a time which 
she would willingly forget. Nothing more was now needed 
than to persuade her father to be of the party ; and that would 
be easily done, thought the Marquis. 

They had now gone through the whole garden, and stopped 
again at the trellis-gate toward the road : there sat, upon a 
broken capital, a Capuchin monk in his brown cloak ; a white 
straw hat shaded his bald head, and sandals defended his 
naked feet. 

The Marquis saluted him as an acquaintance, and told 
Naomi that the monk came to visit him sometimes. “ I see 
him,” said he, “when he collects little donations for his con- 
vent. He is satisfied with my presents, and he treats me, 
therefore, to a pinch of snuff. Besides, you must know, he is 
a countryman of yours, for he is out of Denmark.” 

“My countryman?” repeated Naomi, inquiringly, as she 
looked more nearly at the man, who rose at the moment to 
put his leathern wallet on his shoulder and to proceed on his 
way. 

Naomi addressed him in the Danish tongue. The monk 
reddened. 

“ You are from Denmark ? ” she asked. 


262 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


“ O God, you speak Danish ! ’’ exclaimed he, and his eyes 
sparkled. “ I never hear that language. I cannot have inter- 
course with my countrymen on account of the position in 
which I am placed, and therefore I never meet with them. 
O God, you are out of that dear, to me so beloved, Den- 
mark ! ” 

“ Were 3'ou born there ? ” asked Naomi. 

“ Born and bred,” replied the monk. “ Many happy days 
lived I there ; but then I endured a deal before I came hither, 
and into this dress.” 

“ Visit me also when you again collect for your convent,” 
said Naomi: “I live in the hotel in the Spanish Square.” 
And she mentioned the name of her foster-father. 

“ You are his daughter ! ” interrupted the monk. ‘‘ Don’t 
you know me ? I used to live in Svendborg — had a wife and 
son there. Ah ! I have endured a deal of misfortune j and 
here I might have died of hunger, had not the convent taken 
me as a serving-brother.” 

It was Christian’s father ; Naomi knew him. 

When the sun went down and the bells sounded the Ave 
Maria, Naomi stood ready in her male attire, which was so 
very becoming to her, and with the little mustache on her 
beautiful upper lip. The carnival time was approaching ; and, 
besides, these disguises were not such very uncommon things 
in Rome, she thought. The Count shook his head a little 
about it. But now the servant announced the young Marquis ; 
and in half an hour the three were on their way to the Osteria, 
where the artists assembled. 

This Osteria lay close beside one of the little churches in 
Rome. By day, the light alone entered it by the open double 
door ; the floor was paved with common stones ; the whole 
length of one wall was occupied by a fire-place, where one fire 
beside another burned under the most various kinds of eatables, 
which were prepared by husband, wife, and two sons, amid 
incessant laughter and gossip. Upon the crooked table lay, 
in the most picturesque arrangement, and ornamented with 
green leaves, every kind of fish and flesh : one could select 
from amongst them that which one desired to have prepared. 
At the long wooden tables sat peasants with their wives and 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


263 

daughters, with great wine bottles wrapped in straw standing 
before them. A garland of red-glass lamps burned around 
the somewhat tawdrily painted picture of the Madonna on 
the wall ; and an ass, heavily laden, which certainly was wait- 
ing for its master, had likewise a place in the room. The 
peasants improvised, and the women sang in chorus. Near 
to the chimney, where the signora of the Osteria stood, there 
hung a little child in a basket on the wall, that played with its 
little arms and looked down upon the bright and merry as- 
semblage. 

The Count, the Marquis, and Naomi went through this 
room toward the high stone steps which conducted into 
another larger room, which had once been the refectorium of 
the convent ; but the convent had now vanished, and the 
church alone stood there. Here (which is a rarity in the 
South) the floor was covered with wood ; the vaulted roof 
formed several arches ; on the walls hung withered garlands, 
and in the centre an O and a T woven in oak-leaves. These 
letters denoted the names of Overbeck and Thorwaldsen, who 
had both given here a Pontemolle ; and these garlands and 
these initials still hung here in memory of these much honored 
men. 

As in the first room, the long tables here were also cov- 
ered ; yet it must be confessed that the table-cloths were a lit- 
tle gray in color. Brass lamps, each with six wicks, were 
burning at short distances from each other ; a strong cloud of 
tobacco-smoke rose up to the ceiling. Down the sides of the 
tables, upon wooden benches, sat old and young painters, 
most of them German, the proper founders of this Kneip-life. 
All wore mustaches and whiskers and long hair. Here sat 
one in his shirt-sleeves, there another in a blouse ; the old cel- 
ebrated Reinhardt sat among them, in his leathern jerkin and 
red woolen cap ; he had fastened his dog to the chair, and the 
creature sat there barking loudly at another dog. There was 
also to be seen Overbeck, with his bare neck and his long 
locks, which hung down upon his white shirt-collar ; he was 
clad å la Raphael, yet not as a costume for the occasion, but 
in his ordinary dress. By means of his geniality, he ap- 
proached Perugino and Raphael in art ; through his little 


OJVLV A FIDDLER! 


264 

weakness he resembled them also in his dress. The Tyrolese, 
Joseph Koch, the old painter with the jovial mien, extended 
his hand to the Marquis. They seated themselves. 

The festally attired dignitaries of the Pontemolle were soon 
seen to take their places at the head of the table. Next to the 
general, whose uniform was, as it were, overlaid with stars and 
orders of paper, and on the right, was the executioner, with 
bare arms, a tiger-skin around his shoulders, and the fasces 
and axe in his hand ; but to the left was the Minnesinger, 
with the barret and the guitar. The minstrel struck a few ac- 
cords on his instrument, which were answered from without. 
There began a sort of duet ; a painter stood outside the door, 
who desired to cross over the Tiber. A musical “ Come in ! ” 
sounded, and upon that the traveller entered. He carried a 
knapsack on his shoulders ; his face was painted white ; the 
long hair and beard were of flax, and his finger-nails were of 
dough. He was conducted to the table with a measured 
song ; a glass of wine wa^ given to him, and the laws were 
read aloud to him, of which the most important were, that he 
should love his general and alone serve him ; that he should 
not covet his neighbors’ wine, etc., etc. He then mounted 
upon a bench, then upon the table ; the false hair and nails 
were cut from him, and his travelling attire taken off. Stand- 
ing there now in his customary dress, he descended again from 
the other side of the table, and that was Pontemolle. During 
these ceremonies, banners, on which were wine-bottles, eagles, 
and emblems of painting were erected. One blew the trum- 
pet, another struck the cymbals, which consisted of two tin 
plates; the dogs barked, and the Tyrolese jodelled. With this 
the bacchanal began. Each one bound his napkin around his 
head, and a monk’s procession, with singing, commenced ; 
they went round about and over table and benches, both 
world-renowned and ephemeral painters. Every one now had 
to distinguish himself ; a laughable song, a characteristic 
cooper’s-song, was struck up, to which every one had to beat 
time with his hands upon the table, and the delighted cooper- 
bench gave every line a point with white chalk on the black 
table. 

In the midst of this merriment four actual gens-d’armes 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


265 

stormed into the room, with fixed bayonets, and seized one of 
the most respectable of the painters in order to arrest him. 
On this there arose a universal confusion, cry, and opposition, 
until one of the gens-d’armes broke into a loud peal of laugh- 
ter, and the whole was explained to be a concerted scheme of 
the newly inducted painter. That was the stranger’s contribu- 
tion to the night’s merriment. Four steaming punch-bowls were 
then borne in, which were the presents of some unknown per- 
son in the company. On this they all joined in the song, 

“ Long life to the unknown giver ! ” 

A poor Italian now entered by chance, and prayed for per- 
mission to exhibit his art, or rather that they would listen to 
it ; which was granted to him. He could imitate the voices 
of animals, which, however, the dogs took very ill ; and thun- 
der and lightning, also, with his eyes and mouth, which made 
them all very merry. But the man had his weak side, which 
was the pleasure he had in hearing himself sing, and he might 
have become a very good singer if his voice had been culti- 
vated in his youth ; but as it was, his performances were 
lamentable. He sang duets, as well the part of the lover as 
the mistress ; turned up his eyes, and made the while all kind 
of ludicrous grimaces. His auditors, however, incessantly in- 
terrupted him, and desired to hear the cries of animals, and 
the thunder-storm, which he considered far inferior to his 
singing. There was something quite affecting in the extreme 
emaciation of the poor man, and as the plate went round to 
collect contributions for him, Naomi was reminded of Chris- 
tian. She had for a long time forgotten him ; this poor man, ' 
in whom she seemed to see something kindred to him, brought 
him back into her remembrance. 

“ Have not we two seen one another in Vienna.?” inquired 
a young man with a strong beard, as he made an easy bow to 
Naomi. “ We certainly made a journey together to Hitzing 
in the gesellschaftswagen ! ” 

Naomi crimsoned over and over ; she looked keenly at the 
inquirer, and recognized in his pragmatical look the man who 
had been in the carriage with her when she sought for Ladis- 
laf in the casino, and who at that time had said to her that he 
knew by her accent that she was not a native, that he had 


266 


ONLY A FIDDLER \ 


seen her in the Prater, and that she would find her master in 
Hitzing. All this rose vividly to her remembrance. 

“ Is the horse-rider, Ladislaf, also here in Rome ? asked 
he, in quite an unabashed tone. The Count was uneasy. 

“ What does the gentleman say ? ” inquired the Marquis. 

“ They are not quite the same sort of artists as are accus- 
tomed to assemble here,” continued the German, and whis- 
pered something into his neighbor’s ear. 

Naomi was seized upon by such an oppressive anxiety as 
she had never before felt. What if this man should here re- 
late aloud that she was a woman, and that she had formerly 
lived under circumstances of a very doubtful character ! The 
German drunk one toast after another; his cheeks glowed, 
and his pragmatical glance incessantly rested on Naomi. A 
roundelay was now struck up, in which they moved in proces- 
sion around the table. When the German came opposite to 
her he whispered in her ear, You are a lady ! ” 

“ Is that to be an affront? ” asked Naomi. 

“Just as you please,” replied the artist, and passed on. 
The Marquis heard nothing of it ; he did not understand Ger- 
man, and besides this, was deeply engrossed in the enjoyment 
of the moment. The Count also seemed to forget the occur- 
rence in which he had heard the mention of Ladislafs name, 
for he took the most lively part in the general entertainment. 
They were again seated at the table, as his eye fell upon the 
German artist, who that moment leaned across the table, with 
a malicious smile, to whisper something into Naomi’s ear. 
She turned pale ; her hand grasped convulsively the knife 
which she had just taken up, and she raised her arm. 

At that moment, “ Hutjehu ! ” resounded through the room. 
One of the older painters sprang in as Befana, upon an ass, 
and the creature, terrified at the large and noisy company, 
drove so violently against the table at which Naomi sat, that 
glasses, wine-bottles, and lamps were overturned by the blow ; 
so that neither the German nor any one else observed the 
agitation of mind which was visible in Naomi’s countenance, 
nor yet the advantage which the Count’s presence of mind 
had taken of the lucky general disturbance. The mirth of 
the company assumed a boisterous character, and the Marquis 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 267 

only became aware of the absence of his companions when 
the waiter privately whispered it to him. 

Without, the moon shone so bright that the dark autumn 
days of the North are not brighter than the moonshiny nights 
in Rome. 

“ I really was alarmed ! ” was all that the Count said. 
Naomi clung fast to him, and burst into tears. 

“ Don’t go yet ! ” cried the Marquis after them ; “ it is just 
beginning to be right merry in the company.” 

“ Our young hero found it too hot there, too oppressive ; he 
soon would have been ill,” replied the Count. 

“ O, that is quite over ! ” said Naomi ; “ but I W'ould rather 
not go back. I have very much amused myself this evening, 
and I thank you for the pleasure, Marquis ! ” 

“ These sort of merry-makings bear the stamp of genius,” 
said the Marquis ; and now described the scenes which had 
most amused him. 

“ It has been, I could almost think,” said Naomi to him in 
a low voice, “ the pleasantest evening which I have spent in 
Rome.” 

An hour after midnight the Count was gone to rest, and 
slept soundly on the events of the day. In Naomi’s chamber 
also was the night-lamp extinguished ; all was still, but yet 
she was not in bed. Scarcely undressed, she had thrown her 
silk cloak about her, and had opened a door which led from 
the balcony to her room ; she leaned her head against the 
door-post, and stood thus lost in thought. The meeting with 
her foster-father in Vienna had not shook her so deeply as the 
scorn-denoting conduct of this stranger, at his hints with ref- 
erence to a time which she wished to bury in eternal forgetful- 
ness. In Vienna she had given up all pretensions to a higher 
grade of life, and she had become tranquil ; but now she had 
entered anew into another sphere, and found herself in bril- 
liant circumstances. Who would be able to give a picture of 
such a moonlight night as that in which Naomi gave herself 
up to such grave observations ! It is a night which neither 
resembles day nor the moonlight of a northern night. If one 
should compare the daylight of the North to the clear burning 
of a lamp which we do not see, and a bright night to the flame 


268 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


of a candle, one might between these two find an expression 
for the clear nights of the South in the light which the astral- 
lamp, with its softened brightness, diffuses. But in that the 
eye alone would have its enjoyment ; the soul would remain 
cold because we should not breathe also the air of the South. 
The most beautiful summer evenings of the North, enjoyed on 
the sea-shore or upon open hill-tops, are filled with a gentle 
and refreshing air ; if, however, thou couldst see thyself sud- 
denly transported to the South, thou wouldst find the strong 
difference between the two to be as great as the difference 
between the enjoyment of a sensual and a purely intellectual 
pleasure. The blue, frosty heaven of the North raises itself 
like a lofty vaulted roof above our heads ; in the South this 
far -off boundary seems to be a transparent glass, behind which 
the space of heaven still extends. 

Naomi drew in this pure air, and yet she breathed heavily 
and deeply ; this illumination rested above the city of remem- 
brances, the Rome of the Cæsars and the monks — but for 
that she had no thought. There, below in the Spanish Square, 
is a fountain ; the great basin is hewn out in the form of a 
ship, the deck of which is half under water, and there, where 
the mast should heave itself, springs up the broad column of 
water. Even in the most bustling days is- heard the splash of 
the again descending water ; now, in the nocturnal stillness, 
it was yet louder. The moon mirrored itself in the water. 
Beneath the Madonna’s image, at the corner of the Propa- 
ganda, a whole family slept upon the cold stones. Naomi 
opened a side-window of her chamber ; the Spanish Steps, 
which are of great width, and almost as high as the hotel, lay 
here before her ; and her eye also discovered, here and there, 
a sleeper, who had wrapped himself in his cloak. The dense 
avenue above the steps towered up double against the clear 
air ; the white walls of the nunnery rose up ghost-like. With- 
out having one thought for all this which she saw, Naomi 
looked up ; the bell of the convent-church now sounded ; 
serving-sisters were now, in the hour of night, busied in the 
tower, whilst other sisters prayed at the altar. The sound of 
the bell awoke Naomi out of her dream ; she bethought her- 
self of her kindred sufferers, — for suffer they certainly must I 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


269 

She fancied that she remarked white garments through the 
sounding-holes, and she thought of the captive maidens to 
whom it was only permitted in the hour of night to cast down 
from the lofty tower a glance upon the dead Rome which lay 
below, whose roofs seemed to be a wavy sea, and the many 
cupolas, sailing-boats. The figure of the angel high above, 
upon the Castle of St. Angelo, was for her no consoling 
cherub which bounded toward her across this petrified sea ; 
dead, like Lot’s wife, it stood there beckoning to her, as if 
with the words, — “ All beloved ones are dead for you ! ” 

“ There are many, after all, who have to bear much more 
severe sufferings than I,” said Naomi, with a low voice : “if 
I were one of these I might feel myself still more unhappy ! 
Our own dissatisfaction depends upon our own firm will and 
our view of life. I know that which I have to do ! ” She 
waited still a moment, sunk in thought, and glanced up toward 
the convent and the dark avenue, which seemed as if it were 
the entrance to this home of death ; and yet, by day, it was a 
gay boulevard of the ever-visited Rome. 

Close beside the avenue, exactly by the brick-work balus- 
trade of the Spanish Steps, stood a young man supporting his 
head upon his hand, and looking down over the city. Was it 
not an artist who had lost himself in the contemplation of the 
beautiful picture of which, even if it were impossible to repre- 
sent it in color, the peculiar joy should never leave him, let 
Fate conduct him wherever it might ? How many might not 
envy him this view ! Yet, no ! he- saw nothing. The wine 
which he this evening had drunk in such abundance in the 
Osteria had changed itself into jesting sprites, some of whom 
hung themselves, like hundred-weights, to his feet; but the 
heaviest of them bent down his head, for which reason he 
feared to descend the steep Spanish Steps : yes, as he looked 
directly down them, they seemed to him like the cascade at 
Tivoli. All that was done by the imps of the wine ! He 
leaned himself against the balustrade of the steps and slum- 
bered, as many another painter has done before him, and many 
another after him will do. 

Naomi observed him. He wore a very peculiar cap, and 
from that she had recognized him as the German in the pro- 


270 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


cession round the table in the Osteria. Only upon the road 
to Hitzing, and here in the Osteria, had she seen this man ; 
and yet she hated him almost as much as she hated Ladislaf. 

“ If one were only now acquainted with the use of the ar- 
row,” thought she, “ what a good thing it would be ! The ball 
announces its deed so noisily, but the arrow whistles softly 
through the air, and silently pierces the heart of the detested 
foe. Nobody here would hear its flight ! no one recognize it ! 
I wish death to this man. And what then should I wish to 
Ladislaf?” 

“ Our thoughts are the blossom, but actions are the fruit 
of the blossom,” says Bettina. We are of the same opinion, 
but observe that not all blossom arrives at fruit, the greater 
part falls before its time. We shall become acquainted with 
the rich blossoms which in this night unfolded themselves in 
Naomi’s soul in their development, when the sun has shone 
longer upon their bloom, and the area cattiva of life and the 
sirocco of passion have paid their visits. 

But for that, at least, days are required, often months and 
years. 


CHAPTER XXXV. 


** Who never with tears hath eaten his bread, 

Who never hath passed the night’s dark hours 
Weeping on poverty’s lonely bed, 

Knoweth you not, ye heavenly powers.” 

Goethe. 

T hat evening was the first, and at the same time the 
last that Naomi assembled with the painters in the Os- 
teria. Her judgment on the merriment which took place there 
was, that it presented a new edition of German student-life. 
She considered as much more beautiful the German transla- 
tion of Roman art, as she called the representations which 
were given in the hotel of the Austrian Ambassador, and at 
which she had had a few opportunities of being present. As 
these representations had an influence upon her after-fate we 
will pause over one of them, and will select the first which 
occurs. 

She had visited every celebrated picture which exists in the 
churches, convents, or galleries of Rome, and had spent whole 
hours in the contemplation of Raphael’s sibyls in the church 
of Maria della Pace. They seemed to her to be perfect mas- 
terpieces, but still when she saw the sibyls which Michael An- 
gelo has enchanted on the walls of the Sistine Chapel she for- 
got those for these. 

Even when a child, beautiful pictures had given her great 
delight ; the art of the sculptor was a stranger to her, as to 
most Danes : for at that time there was no opportunity in our 
country for the growth of taste in such works. Weidewelt 
was then a John in the wilderness. 

Naomi had seen, it is true, glorious works in marble in Vi- 
enna, Lucca, and Bologna, but she did not understand how to 
value them — she could not discover the beautiful in these 
works of art. It was not until she was in Florence that the 


272 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


mist fell from her eyes when she was standing in the great 
hall there, which is entirely occupied by the group of “ Niobe.” 
In the middle of the hall stand Apollo and Diana, who hurl 
the deadly shafts ; and round about, along the walls, sink 
down and lie the already dying children of Niobe, who have 
been struck by the arrows. On the right, in the furthest dis- 
tance, stands the despairing mother, spreading out her gar- 
ment over the last, yet spared daughter. One sees that the 
arrow is directed at the hand of the child, and that by the 
position of the hand the arrow must strike. The spectator 
thus finds himself in the middle of the group, and seized 
upon by terror and admiration at the same time. It was this 
group which gave intellectual power of sight to the eyes of 
Naomi. She had lingered here for whole hours ; the soul- 
captivating magnificence here moved her much more than the 
view of the Medician Venus in her pure, ideal beauty. And 
when now, still later, she had studied the treasures of art in 
the Vatican, she had raised herself to that higher degree of 
knowledge in which she valued more highly the works of the 
sculptor than the painter There was that in her character 
which made her prefer the strongly marked works of a Dom- 
enichino to the soft, languishing ones of a Raphael. Thus 
was she more attracted by the “ St. Jerome ” of the first than 
by the charming “ Psyche ” of the latter.^ 

There was given in the house of the Austrian Ambassador 
a combination of tableaux parlants^ and that which Fetis gives 
to the Parisians, and calls Concert historique^ that is to say, 
the ancient music of various centuries, together with the cos- 
tume accordant with the time.^ Among the tableaux, that 


^ Both these celebrated pictures are in the Vatican. 

2 Each division of the subject was opened by a treatise on the music of 
the century, let it be of whatever kind it might, whether church music, con- 
cert, or vocal music. In order to make this more intelligible to the hon- 
ored reader, we will give here a few portions of a concert of this kind which 
was given in the year 1833 ; — 

{a) Villanella, å quatre voix, chantee dans les serenades Napolitaines, 
1520. 

(å) Chansons fran9aises, k quatre et cinq voix, par Clement Sannequin, 

1530* 

(c) Ave Maria, k six voix, par Nicholas Gombert, maitre de chapelle 
de I’Empereur Charles V., 1 520. — Author's Note. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


273 

especially out of the Palazzo Rospigliosi produced great ef- 
fect. It was the David ” of Domenichino, who returns trium- 
phantly with the head of Goliath ; a page bears the bloody 
head, and the daughters of the country come out to meet the 
hero with cymbals and lutes. 

The next time the curtain was drawn aside Naomi was 
seen standing there in a white dress, with a large transparent 
veil in her hand wherewith to robe herself, and showed how 
exquisitely she had entered into the spirit of the works of the 
sculptor, and how high a degree of personal beauty and of 
intellect she possessed, by means of which she could represent 
their living images. 

She seized the tambourine, threw the veil around her, raised 
the one foot, and every person recognized and admired Terp- 
sichore as she stands among the Muses in the Vatican. 

She now spread out the veil as if for shelter ; pain, and the 
terror of death were expressed in her countenance. It was 
the Niobe, only somewhat more youthful than the artist had 
made her. 

She then kneeled ; the veil fell behind down the back ; the 
feet were covered, and the breast rested upon the beautiful 
arms : it was the Egyptian Sphinx, yet not as the marble gives 
her, but the living Sphinx itself, doubly terrific from the stonily 
cold glances. 

Each new plastic representation called forth a burst of 
applause, a rapture which sprang from the natural impulse to 
give expression to the feelings. The Count himself was 
amazed at Naomi’s talent, which she had been able to culti- 
vate so quietly. The Marquis loved her, and was himself 
conscious of this love ; his eye beamed, but his admiration 
was silent. 

Now again she rose, raised her arms aloft, and bowed her 
head forward. It was the Caryatide ; the heavy burden lay 
evidently on the beautiful shoulders. 

Then she was Galatea, before the kiss of Pygmalion had 
animated her. The transition to life was extraordinarily de- 
ceptive ; the eye without the power of vision received life ; 
the first faint movement was visible ; the smile of the lips was 
enchanting. 

18 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


274 

At length the curtain fell. 

Ah ! that had been an evening of happiness and joy ! Like 
the mild breath of the southern air its incense enwrapped the 
delighted Naomi. 

But in Denmark, in the mean time, the cold wind sped over 
the snow and whistled at Christian’s window, whilst the 
mother grew sick in the little chamber with care and sorrow. 
Do not all of us know care and sorrow ? — yet dost thou 
know the sorrow of poverty ? Didst thou ever see the with- 
ered hand, which attempts to conceal the half-naked body 
with its poor garments ? the hungry lips, which smile because 
they can no longer beg ? 

“ I have good friends,” thought Christian, and friends help 
in need ! ” 

Yes, yes ! in spring, when the earth is wet and moist, the 
brook also is plentifully supplied with water ; but in summer, 
when the earth is in need of moisture, then is the brook dried 
up, and thou findest therein only hard burning stones. 

A poor youth sat upon the steps of the royal lackey’s 
house ; the bitterest poverty was inscribed upon his dress as 
well as upon his countenance. Beside him stood a jar, in 
which was broken meat ; he put some of it on a plate that he 
might carry it more easily. A beautiful lap-dog, which had 
been washed and combed, and wore a gay collar, tripped down 
the steps, stood still, and smelt at the jar. 

“ That is no eating for thee, thou genteel dog ! thou art 
accustomed to that which is better; this is only a beggar’s 
meal ! ” And he took up the jar, and, concealing it as well as 
he could under his worn-out coat, he carried it up into the 
garret to his sick mother. 

“ My son, I shall die ! ” said the invalid. “ But Death has 
his whims ; he at least comes where he is called for. And is 
not the world also so beautiful? Yes, life is a glorious gift of 
God ; and they only can consider it as the fountain of all suf- 
fering and of every misery, whose eyes rest alone on its dark 
moments — on the crushed worm and the nipped-off flower. 
A worm is crushed, a flower perishes, and the sun shines 
through the whole of nature on millions of happy creatures ; 
the birds sing, the flowers send forth odor ” — 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


275 

We will not gaze upon this suffering and this misery ; we 
will speed away over a long space of time We will take a 
bold leap in the life’s history of Naomi and Christian, not to 
spring over single points in them, but that we may collect them 
into a whole, and be able to observe them from a better point 
of view. 

Dost thou hear, friendly reader, the strokes of the whirling 
wheel as the years vanish ? Twelve long years were over 
and gone since Christian sat in his garret by the bed of his 
sick mother ; twelve years have sped on triumphantly since 
Naomi enchanted every one as Terpsichore, Niobe, the Sphinx, 
the Caryatide, and Galatea. 

We are in Paris. The tricolored flag waves upon the pillar 
of the Vendome ; before the shops caricatures are hanging of 
the self-elected citizen-king, the prudent, world-experienced 
Louis Philippe. It was in the beginning of the year 1833. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 


“ Paris with ils Parisians is the most beautiful abode here below. Paris 
is the only place in the world, where it is allowed to live after one’s own 
inclination.” — A Gentleman's Perspective. 

. . , “ Alle fare vild, og Alle drukne 

I Lidenskabens Hav, og Alle see 
Af endelig Forblindelse bestukne. 

Snart af et daarlight Haab, snart af en falsk Idee.” 

H. Hertz. 

W E are in Paris. Come ! we leave our room and de- 
scend the smooth steps of the hotel. Light-footed 
gargons slip past us — they go out to wait; pretty grisettes 
meet us in the court ; they lodge here at night, and now they 
are going out, the charming girls ! to serve in shops, or else 
to their dress-making business. The porter greets us ; and now 
we are in the street, which swarms with people and with car- 
riages of all kinds, and in which the houses, up to the very 
jar-shaped chimneys, are painted over with names, signs, and 
letters an ell long, in all the colors of a harlequin. The car- 
riages sweep past close by the houses ; old women are sing- 
ing airs from Béranger ; an unknown person sticks a note into 
your hand, which you must either throw away again or quickly 
conceal. All around hang beautiful copperplate engravings 
and lithographs, but we counsel you not to look at them. If 
you be a zealous Royalist, a horror will come over you at the 
daring caricatures which here hang out publicly. We now 
enter a passage that is called a street, provided with a glass 
roof. Here are shops of two stories high on each side, and 
little passages branch off like side streets from the greater 
one. In cold and rain you find a shelter here, and when it 
is evening hundreds of gas- lamps change the night into day, 
and you may find in these handsome shops everything that 
you need, and which are always able to gladden the heart of 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


277 

man. If you are tired of rambling about, the omnibuses are 
rolling through the streets ; thus you can drive away to the 
Cimetiére du Pere la Chaise, where, if you are romantic, you 
must kneel on the grave of Abelard and He'loise ; but if you 
are a manufacturer, drive on yet further to the carpet manu- 
factory of the Gobelins ; a pious soul, to the island in the 
old Métropolitaine de Notre Dame, — but you will find it 
empty, and only priests wandering about with the vessels of 
incense : a beggar before the door is its entire community. 
The Parisians have at this moment no religion ; they have 
forgotten the Madonna, nay, almost the Father and the Son : 
mind is the only ruling powder amongst them. You no longer 
see any monks in the streets, no processions ; and even from 
the stage the poet preaches Protestantism. You see in ^'■Robert 
le Diable ” the ruins of a nunnery in the middle of a Catholic 
city ; the moon peeps into the dark halls, where stand over- 
turned monuments. Suddenly lights burn in the old brass 
chandeliers ; sarcophagi open and the dead nuns ascend out 
of their graves : they float from the church-yard by hundreds, 
and seem only lightly to touch the earth — like shadows they 
float past each other. Anon and the winding-sheets fall off, 
and now they stand there in luxurious beauty ; and the bac- 
chanal, as it was carried on in the concealment of their con- 
vent walls, begins. In the Catholic city you observe these 
signs of the times. Notice the stir in the streets : w^omen of- 
fer liquorice-water cheap, men offer you walking-sticks : but 
they all, great and small, bear the tricolor. Even their Henri 
Quatre, the bronze king upon the great bridge, must bear the 
citizen-flag which waves on all towers and fagades. “ La Lib- 
erie ! ” that is the great watch-word of the Parisians. 

We are now in the middle of Paris, in the world-renowned 
Palais Royal, — it colonnades inclose us. Under the thinly 
leaved trees, sit a little knot of Danes; they draw a par- 
allel between the view before them and the representation of 
the same upon the Copenhagen theatre in vaudevilles. The 
reality exceeds the mere imitation. Flower-girls offer you roses ; 
ladies with waving feathers, accompanied by the old mama — 
so she is here called — distribute their glances. Among these 
Danes there is one who is here for the first time, — an acquaint- 
ance of ours. They all tell him what he ought to see first. 


OJVLV A FIDDLER t 


278 

“ Taglioni ! said one : “ you should see her as Natalie and 
as the Sylph. That is dancing ! She raises herself like a 
bird, and then sinks down again like a floating soap-bubble ! 

“ You should go to Versailles ! ” said another ; “ should 
go when the water plays ! — And do not forget the Theatre 
Fran^ais ! ” 

“ I will see everything which is to be seen,” said the newly 
arrived one. “ I especially delight myself with the debates 
in the Chambers of Deputies and of Peers. I have letters 
of introduction to the Marquis Rebard. Is this gentleman 
known to you ? ” 

“ I go sometimes to his house,” replied one of the com- 
pany ; his wife is from Denmark, as far as I know, but a 
complete Frenchwoman — a most charming and interesting 
woman of the world. I am invited by the Marquis this even- 
ing, to be present at the great opera. If you will allow it I 
will introduce you to him in his box.” 

“ I am infinitely obliged to you, but I have got a ticket for 
the Théåtre du Palais Royal, where I shall see Demoiselle 
Dejåzet in the vaudeville, ‘ Sous CleP ” 

“ We can visit them both ; go and see, first of all, ^ Sous Clh' 
and then go to the great opera.” 

The countrymen separated. The one would be so fortunate 
as to hear Grisi — la hella divma, as he called her ; the other 
was to go to M. Comte’s theatre, where children acted, that 
he might see that most charming child which would soon 
grow up and obtain his heart. Our two gentlemen wandered 
into the theatre of the Palais Royal, to see the youthful De- 
jazet in a vaudeville which could not be given among us. 
The one who acted as guide was an officer in the Danish ser- 
vice. 

After this piece the two gentlemen went from the lesser to 
the greater theatre, the Academie Royale du Musique, where 
at that time Nourrit and Damoreau transported everybody 
with their voices, and where now the newly arrived Dane was 
to be introduced to the Marquis and the Marquise, his coun- 
trywoman, at which he smiled very strangely. 

There was given in the great opera this evening no one en- 
tire piece, but, as is often the case, acts from various operas. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


279 

The second act of “ William Tell ” was just ended ; they were 
at the finale of Comte d’Ory, and the second act of the ballet 
“ La Tentation ” was to follow. 

The two Danes ascended the broad and commodious stair- 
case, and went through the magnificent illuminated saloon, 
where the glare of the light was thrown back from looking- 
glass covered walls across the spacious corridor, and entered 
the box of the Marquis. Several elegant gentlemen, so ele- 
gant that they might have served for models of the newest 
fashion, stood behind the ladies, who were dressed as if for a 
ball. The concluding chorus resounded, the curtain fell ; 
and now venders wandered about and mounted to the boxes 
and to the pit, and cried out with loud voices, ‘‘L^orgue/ du 
marchand! Voilå VEntEacte! Vert-vert! Voila le pro- 
gram7ne ! la piece ! ” The clock above the proscenium showed 
the hour of nine. 

The Marquis, whom we have not seen since he was in 
Rome, twelve years ago, received the two strangers with 
French politeness. The handsome, stout lady, with dark 
intelligent eyes and royal bearing, saluted with her fan the 
newly arrived gentleman, who was presented to her as captain 
of a Danish regiment. He was a native of Holstein ; the 
Marquise was acquainted with him : she, indeed, had once re- 
ceived his homage in Denmark ; had driven with him out of 
the gate of Copenhagen to see the handsome Ladislaf, who 
was now forgotten. The same recollections, no doubt, were 
awakened in both of them as they conversed together, although 
it was quite on other subjects. They recognized each other 
by their names. A convulsive trembling with the eyelashes 
was now the only movement which betrayed Naomi’s feelings ; 
the next moment she was again the Marquise, the woman of 
the world. Perhaps, also, this slight agitation might be merely 
accidental : but the Dane, the former lover, had observed it. 
The whole conversation was carried on in French ; Naomi’s 
countryman prayed her to introduce him to the fragment of 
the ballet which was to be given. 

“ The principal thing is that which is to be seen, the treat- 
ing of it is very insignificant. It is the history of the holy 
Anthony and his temptations. The second and the third acts 
are given, and you will see Taglioni.” 


28 o 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


In the first act of the Temptation one is in a wild mountain 
region, in which the holy Anthony has chosen his abode ; his 
couch is a straw mat. High up among the mountains a 
marriage procession is seen to move along, and the sound of 
their singing is heard. Anthony listens and thinks upon 
worldly joys and their felicity. A female pilgrim brings to 
him fruit and wine ; at first he refuses them both, but hunger 
and thirst induce him to partake of them : the wine heats his 
blood — he drinks again — he empties the cup, and becomes 
intoxicated. The blood now glows and riots in his veins ; he 
seizes the saintly maiden who had brought him the wine, but 
she starts back with horror. His eyes burn, he stretches out 
his arms to take hold on her, when suddenly the image of the 
Madonna raises its arm and Anthony is struck by a flash of 
lightning. Black, fire-red clouds, spirits of the abyss, now as- 
cend from the deep to seize upon his soul ; but there descend 
from the air silver-bright clouds with kneeling angels, in the 
midst of which stands St Michael with his shield. A combat 
now ensues between the good and the bad spirits ; St Michael 
then raises his shield to interpose peace, and permits the soul 
again to enter the dead body. It is granted to the spirits of 
the under world after this to tempt the reanimated, but if 
they cannot seduce him to sin against the Holy One, then he 
is to belong to heaven. “ He is ours ! ” shout the evil spirits 
exultingly ; “ we will entice him to sin ! ” The good angels, 
however, intone a hymn, and Anthony again stands up. Here 
ends the first act ; the two following ones are the representa- 
tion of the Temptation and the Victory of the holy Anthony. 
It was thus probably that Naomi introduced her countryman 
to the ballet. 

The curtain rolled up, and the second act, which on account 
of its greater magnificence has kept its place the longest, 
began. The scene opened in the crater ; deep below, in an 
exhausted volcano, an immense flight of steps, the whole 
height of the stage, filled the background. The march re- 
sounded ; and now descended many hundreds of demons in 
the most whimsical and fantastic of shapes. Here there was 
a wandering hand, a torso of demons, a rolling eye, and gray 
animal forms The Sabbath now began, the kettle steamed 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


281 


upon the fire, and every demon threw in his gift. The steam 
fashioned itself as it rose to demon-like shapes, and before 
long a beautiful woman arose out of it, — a child of the under 
world, who was destined to tempt the saint ; an image of the 
most perfect beauty, as she once arose from the foam of the 
sea, and as sculptors have created her from marble. Thus 
floated Taglioni among the demons, who adorned their child 
and taught her the use of the senses. Like an ethereal being 
she floated around among the wild shapes, and the black curl 
which hung upon her bosom alone told of her hellish origin. 

In triumph then ascend the wicked spirits with her to the 
upper world. 

Naomi sat there as if lost in dreams ; now she became 
crimson, now again she grew pale, and her eyes closed. 

“ You are not well ! ” said the Danish gentleman to her 
softly. She again cast down her eyes and breathed deeply. 

“ Ah, it is nothing ! ” replied she with a faint voice. “ I felt 
a kind of dizziness ; it is now passed.” She then smiled again 
and said, “ There is so much fantasy in the demoniac Sabbath 
that one cannot reconcile : it seems to be an entire delirious 
dream.” 

The third act now began. The demons had raised a castle 
— one could see through the window into the magnificent 
saloon ; the little goblins roasted and boiled, dressed up as 
cooks, in the kitchen ; all above danced pretty little ladies. St. 
Anthony now approached : overcome with hunger and fatigue, 
he begged for a crust of dry bread and a draught of water. 
The cook laughed, pointed to a crucifix which stood on the 
road, and desired him to overturn it, and then he would invite 
him to dinner ; but Anthony refuses. Demons then appear 
in hunting-dresses on horseback before the castle, together 
with the woman that they have made ; and she also makes 
the same proposal with the same promises to the holy Anthony. 
The beautiful woman proffered to him the enjoyment of her 
whole splendor if he would overturn the cross. On this he 
knelt before the sacred symbol, whilst the wild song of the 
demons to the ringing of their cups resounded from the castle, 
and one sees the tumultuous company from the windows. The 
woman approached Anthony, but his address to her operates 


282 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


upon her like sunshine upon the poison-plant — her black 
lock becomes less and less. The creature of the nether world 
listened with intense admiration, and with human thoughts 
and human feelings, to the words of the saint ; and whilst he 
kneeling embraced the cross the beautiful woman sank into 
the earth, and the castle, together with everything which it 
contained, was hurled into the abyss, out of which red flames 
sprang forth. 

Only these two acts of the ballet were given. “ The holy 
man had such powerful influence over that demoniac child,” 
said Naomi, “ that she also was fitted for heaven. You ought 
to see the conclusion of the ballet, where Anthony belongs to 
heaven, and conducts the dear girl to bliss. Spirits of hell, 
wrapped in burning sulphur clouds, occupy the lowest part of 
the stage ; white clouds ascend, and then all is filled with an- 
gels : as if by millions one sees the kneeling groups ; then 
the white-garmented grown-up human beings, with large white 
wings ; then children ; and behind these innumerable groups 
painted on the background. The lighting is so beautifully 
managed that the eye observes no transition from reality to 
the mere appearance ; one seems to gaze into infinite heaven, 
which, as well as the clouds, ascends higher and higher, ever 
extending itself until the curtain falls.*’ 

The party left the theatre ; it was twelve o’clock, and the 
Marquis had company at home, who were awaiting the return 
of the host and hostess from the opera. 

“ You will meet in the soiree Alexandre Dumas, and some 
of the young painters who have become celebrated by their 
decorations for the Temptation,” said Naomi to her country- 
man, as in going out she saluted him with her fan. 

The strangers now drove to the hotel of the Marquis, where 
they entered a magnificent suite of rooms. In the first two 
new pictures, by young artists, were exhibited by the most fa- 
vorable lamp-light ; one was a scene from Victor Hugo’s 
Notre Dame de FarisF It represented, bound to the pil- 
lory, Quasimodo tormented with thirst and hunger, and the 
slender, amiable Esmeralda, who offers to the misshapen mon- 
ster a draught of water. 

The second piece was a representation of the concluding 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


283 

scene in Casimir Delavigne’s last tragedy, Les Enfans 
cP Edouard” — the heart-rending scene where the two children, 
dressed, sit upon their bed and listen. They know that the 
murderers will come to slay them, but they know also that 
an endeavor will be made to save them ; when they shall hear 
the anthem of “ God save the King ! ” struck up, their salvation 
is at hand. The song is heard — one sees the smile of the 
younger brother ; but in that very same moment the door 
opens, whilst yet the song of deliverance resounds. The two 
children were portraits of the female artists Menjaud and 
Anais. 

One single guest stood before the pictures, but the greater 
part of the company betook themselves to the large conversa- 
tion room, where the Marquis and the Marquise received their 
guests. A young officer spoke of the siege of Antwerp, an- 
other group of the last transactions in the Chamber of Peers. 
No mutual introductions took place, each one came and went 
according to his pleasure, and the whole had rather the ap- 
pearance of a public than of a private saloon. 

A young man of genius fell into discourse with the Holstein 
officer, and when he understood that the foreign gentleman 
was a Dane he spoke of the opera of '■^Gustaf” which must 
interest him out love for his country. He spoke also of Ber- 
nadotte, who just lately had been brought upon the stage in the 
vaudeville “Z-? Camarade de Lit ; ” of the Danish king, who had 
been a French general. That which related to the North was 
somewhat apocalyptical to the gentleman, for at that time 
France had not sent out a Marmier, who had written so beau- 
tifully and so livingly of the geysers of Iceland and the Scan- 
dinavian kingdom, with its rocks, woods, and fragrant plains ; 
of Sweden’s preponderance in politics, and Denmark’s in the 
regions of science. In English and Italian literature, on the 
contrary, the Frenchman was quite at home. Naomi’s ex- 
adorer, however, made a face about this — we will not say 
like the cow before the painted wall, but something like Moses 
when his eye was cast upon the promised land, which his foot 
was never to tread. At last, however, that he might say some- 
thing important, he said “ Goethe ! ” and the eyes of the 
Frenchman flashed at the name of the German Corneille, the 
author of the philosophical, intellectual poem of “ Faust.” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


284 

Naomi stood near them, and assured them with smiles how 
much she also admired “ Faust.” “ This fragment,” said she, 
‘‘ appears to me like a comet created by astonishment, like a 
comet with an intelligible head, but which is followed by a 
bad tail, that ‘ is to be continued,’ as is written under it. But, 
however, I believe that people have given a higher value to 
this poem than the author himself did. When Europe has 
once got to the end of writing commentaries on it, it will then 
also find time to look at other works of this kind quite as 
good.” 

“ Goethe belongs no more to the living,” returned her coun- 
tryman : “ De mortuis nil nisi bonum / ” 

“ A great and true poet never dies, and therefore one may 
also very well speak of his faults,” replied Naomi, whilst she 
cast a compassionate glance on her ex-worshipper. 

The conversation now again turned upon Denmark and 
Scandinavia, and Naomi well knew how beautifully to unfold 
her idea of the North being the very land of romance. She 
spoke about the melancholy rocks of Norway ; of its foaming 
waterfalls, which might match themselves against those in 
Switzerland ; of its solitary pasture-huts on the mountains, and 
of its dark pine woods ; she delineated the beautiful situation 
of the Danish islands, which, she said, lay like a blooming la- 
goon between the North Sea and the Baltic ; and told of the 
ancient, and yet ever-resounding Scaldic songs ; of gypsy 
people who lived upon the heaths of Jutland ; and of the soli- 
tary cairns, and the fragrant clover and corn-fields. 

“Your description,” said the Frenchman, “as you give it, 
would be a pearl for our ‘ Revue Du Nordl ” 

Naomi smiled. 

A gentleman decorated with orders gave a political turn to 
the conversation ; and here also Naomi gave her views unhes- 
itatingly, as well about the marshy city of Petersburg as about 
the dwarfish tent of the Arab ; and only bowed her head be- 
fore Napoleon, the hero of the age. 

“ You have seen the splendid volcano from a distance,” said 
the courtier, who knew how to value the world-experienced 
Louis Philippe, and declared him to be the first of all rulers 
who belonged to the new age of mankind. “ If your ladyship 


ONL Y A FIDDLER ! 


285 

had been a mother,” said he, “ whose sons had been torn from 
home — if you had seen how these sons, tied by the thumb, 
had been driven through the country like cattle for slaughter, 
you would have not have blessed his name. He was cold ; it 
was not alone in his exterior that he resembled Nero.” 

“ The God whom we all worship,” replied Naomi, “ seems 
in his government of the world to have also his dark side ; 
but is it so in reality ? Napoleon was the angel with the flam- 
ing sword ; he divided the new age from the old. When the 
ploughshare goes over the field it cuts through the roots of the 
flowers, tears up the grass, and crushes the innocent worm j 
but after this necessary evil one sees the rich blessing of the 
harvest wave where the fear of death was felt, and thousands 
have been the winners ! ” 

The conversation now turned to the politics of the day, and 
Naomi showed herself more and more interesting on every 
subject which she handled. The card-tables were arranged, 
the cards presented. The Marquise played with enthusiasm, 
and was eloquence itself the while. Puns were made and ex- 
changed j Naomi was worshipped, and deserved to be so. In- 
telligence and the happine;>s of life spoke in her dark eyes. 

It was three o’clock in the morning before the lights were 
extinguished in the hotel of the Marquis. Naomi sat in her 
chamber in her night negligée^ with her cheek resting upon 
her round arm ; her long hair fell over her shoulders ; her 
countenance glowed. She swallowed down a glass of iced 
water like one sick of fever. 

“ What a tumult my blood is in ! ” said she to her maid. 
“ I am fatigued, and yet I cannot sleep : go to your room.” 

“ How unfortunate I am ! ” sighed she. “ And why should 
I suffer and float in imaginary terror, which increases every 
year .? ” She thought of the demoniac creation of the ballet- 
opera, of that being to whom life and human feeling were given, 
and she fancied that she saw herself in this being. “ Yes,” she 
exclaimed, “ by demons was I called into this life ! Would 
that all the past could crumble into nothing, as will sometime 
be the case in death ! It is disease, it is nothing else ! Every 
one of my countrymen becomes to me an instrument of new 
torture, and my executioner is here himself! Let his body 


286 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


perish at the bottom of the Seine! Ladislaf!” she sighed 
deeply, and suddenly paused. “ I will not be my own tor- 
mentor 1 I will enjoy the fragrance of this false life ! ” She 
riveted her eye upon the portrait of her husband, which hung 
opposite to her on the wall. 

“ He smiles,” thought she ; “ I also will smile, for my youth- 
ful sins are not greater than his ; and yet — I Perhaps he 
kisses at this moment the fair locks of some insignificant 
head : Grassot has assured me of it. O, why cannot I love 
him } ” She bowed her head upon her wildly agitated bosom 
and sat long silent, sunk in thought. The lamp threw only a 
feeble light. Naomi slept. 

The daylight appeared through the long curtains before she " 
awoke from her uneasy slumber. She threw herself upon her 
bed, and deceitful dream-shapes gamboled around the sleeper 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 


“ Elle seigna tout ce sang du cæur qu’on appelle des larmes.” — Non- 
velles Impressions de Voyage, par Alexandre Dumas. 



OST thou know the beautiful Tivoli } Not the pictur- 


JLy esque city which thy eye perceives among the moun- 
tains of the Roman Campagna : no ! the garden in the 
Parisian suburbs, to which the advertisements, those dumb 
sirens, entice thee ? Fiacre, coucou, and omnibuses will take 
thee to its entrance for a few sous, and for only three francs a 
Niagara of merriment will be poured over thee. Musard’s or- 
chestra played gallopades from“ Gustaf and ^'‘La Tentationf 
waltzes from Strauss, and quadrilles out of Philtref ’■’‘Rob- 
ert f and ^’■Prk aux ClercsR For the same money two theatres 
are opened to thee : in the lesser one experiments in natural 
philosophy are shown ; in the larger one whole vaudevilles 
are given. Sledges fly down the slides, thousands of lamps 
burn between the green branches ; and when the cry is heard, 
Feu (T artifice I thou followest the stream toward the dark- 
ened place for the spectators, where now the three-hued 
rockets change the night into bright day. 

Thither, into the noisy vortex, will we hasten ! 

The tricolored lamps threw the false splendor of the rain- 
bow through the green branches, music resounded at a dis- 
tance — it was the song of the demons in ’■’La Tentationf^ and 
the daughters of the earth whirled round in the circling dance 
with the sons of rank. 

The view which one here enjoys, when one enters the thick 
shrubbery, and thence observes the gay illumination, the 
whirling figures, and the sledges which slip down the slides as 
from the tops of the trees, is in fact peculiar of its sort — a 
nocturnal Sabbath of the Brocken. 

Did he indulge in some such thought as this, the man there, 


288 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


near to the darkened place where the spectators stood, who 
had to kindle the fire- works ? He had just bound on the last 
rocket ; he seats himself on the grass ; the thin, withered 
hands tremble ; his countenance is yellow ; the blue rings 
below the coal-black eyes, the relaxed features, plainly betray 
that here the soul only haunts, like a bat, the ruins of a body. 

He, from whom our eyes would now gladly turn away, had 
once brought the crimson to the cheek of the daughters of 
beauty ; this wrinkled form was once the model of a hero ; 
this malicious expression in the eye, the glance of pride. He, 
who had set the great crowd in exultation, now lay here, sick, 
despised, forgotten : to fasten on the rockets to the whirling 
wheel was his important business — he, the son of the Pariah, 
Ladislaf ! 

When the enjoyment of life has unstrung thy nerves, their 
sound is only an agitating music. It was their melodies 
which sang to him the song which would last to coming times. 

“My thoughts flee not out into the world ; they return back 
to the heavy and suffering body, which feels that the damp 
mist hangs in its wings, and holds it fettered in the intoxica- 
tion of sleep j it feels the refreshing breath of the air, which 
to it is an ice-cold wind ; the weak nerves tremble ; rny limbs 
quake, my head is dizzy, and it is to me as if the wind blew 
in my brain, and whistled there as in an empty snail-house. 
I feel only a desire to sleep, and yet sleep does not refresh 
my wearied body. The warmth- infusing beams of the sun 
quite dry me up. If for once a thought should wander out, 
it is like a sick man going on crutches : the meadows may 
smile, the sun may give warmth, he yet hangs upon his 
crutches ! ” 

How brilliant was this merry evening in Tivoli ! The rich 
gave their louis-d’ors, the poor their sous, and youth a few 
rose-leaves from their blooming health, that they too might 
one day sing the song of the raven in the solitary bushes. 

Thou who hast visited all the capitals of Europe, and who 
seekest in Paris the centre of the peculiarities of all, thou 
wilt often have met Naomi there. In the public justiciary 
proceedings, which afford to thee a compensation for the Span- 
ish bull-fights, where the throng is quite as great and the 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


289 

crowd of richly dressed ladies is not less, thou must often 
have remarked her as one of the most zealous of the listeners. 
At the Bicetre, where the criminals, riveted the one to the 
other, have been led to the galleys, thou hast certainly recog- 
nized, among the handsome equipages which were drawn up 
on the way, that the gentlefolks might enjoy the heart-rending 
view, the carriage of the Marquise ; and in the solitary night, 
when only the red lamps burned on which was inscribed. Id on 
loge å la nuitl' and the ragman who shuns the day seeks for 
tatters among the sweepings, thou hast seen Naomi take a place 
at the gambling-table, where the gold chinks and passions ex- 
press themselves by the eye. 

Outside Paris, Louis Philippe has erected forts for the de- 
fense of the city, but the Parisians declare that these forts 
were only raised that they themselves might be shot therefrom. 
The party opposed to the citizen-king began to raise their 
voice. The July festival approached ; the most audacious 
caricatures, and every kind of jest upon the festival-days, were 
hung out ; but the wise ruler kept himself quiet the while, and 
permitted the hot tempers to relieve themselves by such like 
fire-bubbles. It was expected that the Egyptian obelisk would 
have been erected, in the festival- days, in the Place de la Con- 
corde j but that did not happen, and instead of it a wooden 
imitation was placed there. Everything was prepared, every- 
thing happened to make these three world-famous days as 
festal as it was possible they could be. The most splendid part 
of the festivities was, however, the uncovering of the statue of 
Napoleon upon the Vendome column. Already the scaffolding 
was seen to be erected, and the work-people in great activity ; 
in the night the statue was hoisted up, and then covered with 
a blue veil woven with silver bees, which was not to be re- 
moved until the moment of the solemn unveiling. 

Naomi belonged to the many who foresaw that in the ap- 
proaching three festival-days a political storm would break 
out, and for that she longed. Only in the days of the Revo- 
lution, when not the phantoms of freedom but the goddess of 
Freedom herself led the noble French people, had she felt her- 
self tranquil : she had courageously fired her pistol out of her 

19 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


290 

window at the royal guard. The unrest of her soul required 
agitation from without, in order to find tranquillity. 

The three days were now at hand, and brought to some of the 
daughters of fallen heroes great joy — a magnificent dowry. 
At sunrise the firing of cannon from the Hotel de Ville and 
the Plotel des Invalides sounded as overture to the festival. 
The tricolored flags waved from Pont Neuf and all the church 
towers. The Hotel de Ville and the Pont d’Arcole were 
adorned with trophies and garlands. 

Sleeplessly listened Naomi to the firing, suffering as in 
that night in the Prater, as in that night in Rome, and ah ! as 
in so many other nights in animated Paris. Large sums of 
money, drawn in advance from her allowance, were lost at play. 
Ladislaf was here, and a countryman of hers who knew her 
connections. 

Upon the site of the former Bastile, by the Fontaine des 
Innocens, and before the Louvre, catafalques were erected, 
which were hung with crape and ornamented with banners, 
garlands of everlastings, and celebrated names ; mourning 
music played, and each quarter of an hour cannon were fired. 
Unusual stillness reigned in the otherwise so noisy Paris. 
The carriages drove at a foot’s pace, as in a mourning pro- 
cession ; the foot-passengers went slowly across the place of 
mourning, and threw their bouquets upon the graves. 

Naomi drove in an open carriage. They who walked 
were crushed against the wheels ; sometimes one among them 
held himself fast by the carriage. She felt that some one 
touched her hand : a little billet was thrust into it ; she saw 
near her not a single face which she knew. 

In the evening, when the long black cloths waved before 
the houses in which the connections and friends of the fallen 
heroes of freedom lived, and the blue fires burned upon the 
graves, Naomi read the billet which she had received : it was 
from Ladislaf. He had inquired after her in her hotel, but 
had been repulsed ; he earnestly besought for an interview 
with her, and reminded her maliciously of happy hours which 
they had spent. 

“ How many persons were found murdered in Paris and its 
suburbs last year? ” asked Naomi of her maid. 


ONL Y A FIDDLER ! 


291 

** Three-and-twenty, as I believe, were murdered and thrown 
into the Seine. It is horrible ! ” replied the girl. 

The Parisians have southern blood,” resumed Naomi. 
“ Is everything quiet ? ” 

“Everything,” said the girl ; “but I have a horror of the 
festival- days.” 

“ So have I,” replied Naomi thoughtfully ; and her mind 
dwelt upon Ladislaf. 

In the “Thousand and One Nights” there is a description 
of a palm-tree, in the summit of which the rich treasure is hid- 
den which has to be found. Every one may ascend it, says the 
story ; the broad leaves bend themselves obligingly aloft ; but 
if you look back and wish, to descend, every leaf is changed 
into a sharp and strong knife, which, if you are not pure and 
innocent, thrusts itself into your limbs. This image floated 
before the eyes of Naomi. 

“ Every little sin was to me once a green, fragrant leaf, 
which bowed itself to my hands,” sighed she ; “ now it is like 
the knife of the executioner as I look back. O, I am as ill 
as the old Countess in Denmark — a nervous, sick person ; 
and that is the most painful of all sicknesses ! ” 

The second day of the festival was come. The long 
Boulevard was the parade of the national guard ; along the 
green alleys stood the well-dressed rows of people, and all the 
windows and balconies of the houses which lay behind were 
filled, like the Boulevards themselves, with human beings ; 
wild boys hung on the branches of the trees, others balanced 
themselves on the stone balustrades of the fountain. Every- 
where was the throng as great as in one of the most frequented 
passages. 

Louis Philippe, surrounded by his sons and his generals, 
showed himself ; he extended his hand, and kindly saluted 
his citizens. A“ F/z^e le resounded, amid which was 

heard, “ A bas les forts ! ” 

The blue veil covered with the silver bees still lay over the 
statue of Napoleon upon the Vendome column ; windows and 
roofs were filled with people ; the king and the dignitaries of the 
kingdom stood with bare heads before the column ; the sign 
was given, and the veil fell. 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


292 

Vive la Memoir e de Napoleon /” was the cry of admiration. 

“ Ou roulent les cannons, ou les legions passent ! — 

Le peuple est im mer aussi ! ” 

Naomi’s ’eye fell upon the moving mass of human beings, 
and she saw, standing below her window, between the casks 
turned upside-down, which people hired as charming places, 
Ladislaf, — the emaciated, sick Ladislaf. He fixed his eye upon 
her and smiled with a demon-like expression, like the fiends 
in the ballet ; he spread out his left hand, and with the fore- 
finger of his right hand made the movement of writing in it. 

Naomi stepped back. The review would occupy several 
hours, and the most magnificent part of the show was really 
over, said she, as she took the arm of her husband. They 
left the house, but they were only able to go out by the back 
door, and they therefore chose this way. An old woman 
passed them on the ground-floor ; she thrust a note in the 
hand of the Marquis, and he concealed it. Naomi observed 
it all. 

On the evening of this day a great concert, consisting of five 
hundred hautboys and three hundred tambourines, was to be 
given in the garden of the Tuileries ; a sea-fight was to take 
place on the Seine, between illuminated ships ; the contours 
of cupolas and towers showed themselves in a blaze of light, 
and the most magnificent fire-works were exhibited. 

“ Noisy as this music, flaring as these lights, is human life !” 
thought Naomi to herself. “Why then should I torment my- 
self? my husband is a greater sinner than myself. I will take 
him to task about the contents of that letter ; for one minute, 
at least, he shall experience my pangs.” 

Without all was pure jubilation ; stormy music and dazzling 
light. Naomi stood in her room and looked across the Seine 
to the cupola of the Hospital of Invalids, which was as brilliant 
as that of St. Peter’s on the holy Easter Eve. She sighed 
deeply. 

“ I cannot show the letter ; it might disturb your peace,” 
her husband had said, as she questioned him regarding its 
contents. “ He was embarrassed,” continued she to herself. 
“The Marquise might not read the beautiful handwriting of 
the blonde lady ! All men are like him, therefore I will, for 
once, be like other women.” 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


293 


Her maid brought in the new ball-dress. On the iollowing 
evening there was to be a great banquet and splendid ball 
given in the Hotel de Ville, to which people of all conditions, 
from the fishwoman to the queen of the land, had free en- 
trance. 

“ To-morrow I will be beautiful ! ” said Naomi: “you must 
try your whole skill ; bring all my jewels to me, and my pearls. 
The fair-haired lady will also be at the ball,” thought she, “ un- 
pretending, amiable, and innocent, as the novels say.” 

It was the third and the last day of the festival. Naomi 
and the Marquis drove to the Champs Elysées, which in their 
whole extent, even to the Arc de Triomphe de I’Etoile, was 
filled with people. In Paris itself, on this day, the theatres 
were thrown open j and in the Champs Elysées, music, swing- 
ing, and every kind of exhibition was gratis. Two companies 
of horse-riders gave in their circuses, in the open air, alternate 
representations. It was many years since Naomi had been 
present at any exhibitions of this kind, nor had she any desire 
to see these ; but the Marquis wished it, and praised so highly 
a young lady-rider of scarcely sixteen, that she was at last pre- 
vailed upon to go. She felt herself urged on ; she laughed, 
and threw out jeering hints about the note of yesterday. 
“ Married people should not have any secrets with each 
other,” said she ; “ not even as regards little sins.” 

The Marquis looked fixedly at her ; she smiled, and fancied 
that she saw embarrassment in his countenance, and now her 
eloquence had met with a desired subject. All around them 
reigned pleasure ; four orchestras were playing ; in vain poor 
fellows climbed up the greasy poles, the mat de cocagncy to 
reach the enticing prize. 

One of the tournaments on the Seine now drew the crowd 
away. Boats maneuvered one against another ; on the bows 
of each stood a sailor, dressed in red and blue, the point of 
whose lance, however, instead of being sharp, was furnished 
with a round plate, with which he endeavored to push his 
adversary overboard. Whoever fell into the water was obliged 
o swim to land, amid the triumphs and laughter for the con- 
queror. 

Naomi’s eyes glanced uneasily around amid the crowd ; she 


ONLY A FIDDLER t 


294 

had no thoughts for all this merry-making: the Marquis, on 
the contrary, interested himself very much ; his eye followed 
every turn which the boats made. 

“ A heart full of sins, to be so calm ! ” thought Naomi, as 
she glanced on all sides to see if her eye could not discover 
either fair or black locks. 

At dinner Naomi drank with smiles to the health of all 
blonde ladies. 

And now her toilet awaited her. Bird-of-paradise plumes 
waved in her splendid turban ; diamonds glittered on her 
beautiful bosom ; she looked at herself, well pleased, in her 
dressing-glass. 

Some one knocked at the chamber door. The waiting- 
woman received a letter for her mistress ; it was from the 
Marquis. The letter contained only two lines, Naomi’s own 
words of the forenoon, “ Married people should have no se- 
crets with each other, not even as regards little sins.” This 
inclosed a note, the self-same which the Marquis had con- 
cealed ; it was from Ladislaf. Everything was set down in 
this letter, from the first kiss until the stroke with the switch — 
he had maliciously laid every secret open to the light. 

“ This is done out of revenge,” was written there ; “ she 
repulsed me as I begged before her door ; she is happy, I am 
in misery, as one says ; I swear by the holy sacrament that 
every word which I have written is the truth.” 

Naomi turned pale. “ Now there is an end of all ! ” thought 
she. 

“ The carriage is at the door — the Marquis waits ; ” was 
announced to her. 

She was ready to drop. The satin rustled, the diamonds 
sparkled. The Marquis conducted her to the step of the 
carriage ; two gentlemen, friends of the family, were in com- 
pany with them. The conversation turned on ordinary things, 
and the Marquis was quite good-humored. 

The streets resounded with huzzas, all the towers and cupo- 
las were illuminated on this evening also. The carriage drew 
up at the Hotel de Ville, and they alighted. The steps were 
ornamented with gay carpets and fragrant flowers, and the two 
dancing-halls in the second story were connected by a hang^ 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


295 

ing-garden, which went obliquely across the court ; orange- 
trees and colored lamps adorned it, and garlanded the fountain 
which had been placed in the centre, from which streamed eau 
de Cologne. In the largest saloon, in which the royal throne 
was erected, were raised on each side amphitheatre-like ter- 
races, with footstools. Here sat the festally attired ladies, the 
wives of the citizens and the peers, side by side, presenting 
the gay appearance of a flower-garden. 

The music of the full orchestra sounded ; the floor was all 
astir ; and on all sides shone eye-glasses, which were directed 
to the ladies. It is true that Naomi could no longer count 
herself as one of the young ladies, but still she possessed a 
fullness of beauty which, in connection with the exquisite taste 
of her dress, made her an object of admiration and homage? 
both to young and old. She smiled joyfully in her dazzling 
magnificence, like the trembling butterfly on the needle which 
transfixes it. 

The broad folding-doors were opened, and the king, the 
queen, and their children entered. In the dense crowd it was 
only possible for them to reach the throne singly. The orches- 
tra played a gallopade from “ Gustaf^ ” precisely that very one 
amid which the Swedish king is shot. It certainly was only 
accidentally that this very dance was just then played, but it 
was easy to read the effect which it produced on the queen by 
her anxious looks. The suffering expression of her features 
told the incessant apprehension which she felt for the life of 
her husband and her children. Many of the guests who stood 
near her could plainly see what she, decked out with diamonds 
and waving bird-of-paradise plumes, must endure. Naomi, the 
smiling, life-enjoying beauty, as she was called, wore almost 
the same dress, and every one who saw her wished that the 
noble queen could be as happy as she. 

At two o’clock in the morning supper was announced. The 
Marquis and Naomi drove home ; still the bustle in the streets 
continued, and the illuminations had not ceased. 

“You sent me a letter,” said Naomi; “every word in it is 
true. What do you wish should now be done ? ” 

“ That you should, whenever the whim takes you to disturb 
me in my pleasures, which every husband in Paris enjoys, 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


296 

read that letter over again. For the rest, I shall take care 
that no scandal occurs. Next summer we will visit the North. 
I will see the beech woods of which you and your countrymen 
so often have told me. That may be a very interesting jour- 
ney for us both, methinks ; but take the letter with you, — 
take it with you ! there may very easily be need of your hav- 
ing it there 1 ” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 


** O this life is an eternal resignation ! And why ? May it not be for a 
delusion ? A crown of thorns for a faith, which perhaps is falsely rested ? 
If now all that you thought, ye pale men, were only the cruel caprice of 
a dream? O pardon me this cruel doubt!” — Gutskow’s Public Char- 
acters. 

“ The stork is perched on the peasant’s roof ; 

He looks the fields and meadows o’er. 

So lovely a spring day will then be ; 

Now comes fair weather, I longed so for.” — Ingemann. 

I N Denmark, in the hall on the Count’s estate, sat the old 
Countess surrounded with her mixture-bottles, just about 
as near to death as she was twelve years before. “ She is 
tough,” said the people ; “ she may even outlast the doctor ! 

The village church had got a new tower ; the school-house 
was built up again anew from the very foundation ; the white 
curtains within the bright windows looked very pretty. Two 
little boys were playing before the door ; the dry twigs which 
they had stuck into the ground were to them quite a blooming 
garden. A woman sat at the door who might be turned 
thirty ; her sewing was lying on her knee ; she smiled kindly 
at the boys whenever they asked her about anything, and she 
frequently raised her hand to impress silence, because the 
father was reading aloud to her in the newspaper. It was 
Lucie and her husband. 

“ Is not to-morrow Sunday again ? ” asked the youngest boy, 
who, with his vivacious brown eyes and handsome face, made 
the want of personal beauty in the elder brother more strik- 
ing. 

“ To-morrow is Sunday ; then comes the fiddler with cakes 
and pictures ! Last Sunday he was not here ! ” 

“ Yes, truly, my son ! ” said the father, as he laid aside his 
newspaper ; “ to-morrow Christian comes. He should come 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


298 

gladly every Sunday that he might hear the sermon here, and 
not prefer going to the meeting. Mr. Pastor Patermann 
spoke to me lately about it. The magistrates have forbidden 
the holding of such-like holy meetings. They hold their con- 
venticles at Peter Hansen’s, and now and then Christian reads 
them a chapter out of the Bible. It is a regular hurly-burly ! 
I have heard that they kept a young dog in a jar, which they 
kissed to show their humility.” 

“ They are malicious reports,” said Lucie ; where Chris- 
tian is no such follies as those could take place, I know for 
certainty. If we were only all of us as good Christians as he ! 
I have talked with him about it, and he has candidly confessed 
to me that he found the best edification for him in the Bible, 
and in the society of pious people. If there were a Judas 
among the twelve disciples of Christ, how easily may there 
not be in a little society one or another who gives occasion for 
scandal ? Certainly it is better to believe too much than too 
little. They to whom the world is opposed in everything 
may so easily stumble. Well for those who only stumble in 
the Bible and the word of God ! ” 

“ What, then, are the adversities which Christian has gone 
through ? ” replied the husband. “ He was, to be sure, a poor 
lad to whom your mother’s brother stood in the place of 
father. That he was somewhat badly ofT in Copenhagen was 
a fate which many partake with him, and that he took his 
mother to live with him there was foolish on both sides. But 
that, however, is now over and gone ! He brought her back 
again here, and Christian is now obliged to play to the guilds. 
It can never go very badly in the world with him who has 
learned something right well. He teaches music at all the 
better kind of houses, and his fiddle is desired at every wed- 
ding. He gets certainly a good income now.” 

“ But it is not of so much consequence how it is about us 
in the world as how it is within us,” said Lucie. “ He set his 
happiness upon making for himself a name, and looking 
rightly about him in the world ; but he had nobody who could 
help him on, and that certainly belongs to it. To be a fiddler 
in a country-place was not the goal of his endeavors. But I 
fancy that grace now has found its way to his heart. When 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


299 

earthly hope disappointed him, he took hold upon heavenly 
hope.” 

“Yes, certainly,” continued the husband, “but with just 
the same overstrained expectations. He ought to get mar- 
ried ; that would be good for him. An old bachelor is, and 
always will be, a sorrowful sight. Such a good wife as you, 
Lucie, would have made quite another man of him, for really 
happy he does not yet feel himself ; at least, now and then a 
state of mind comes over him which is good for nothing in the 
world. Formerly I did not like him, because 1 fancied that 
he loved you. Peter Vieck, too, would have been very well 
pleased if he could have made a couple out of you.” 

“ Christian’s thoughts, in this respect, were always far 
enough from me,” replied Lucie. “ As a boy even he was 
very fond of little Naomi, and when she was grown up his 
whole heart was devoted to her. But they, alas ! were not 
suited in any way for each other. She was beautiful, and 
that made a fool of him. I told him that which was reported 
of her, and which was certainly true, that she was gone out of 
the country with a horse-rider. These tidings made such a 
powerful impression upon him, that I, since then, have never 
mentioned her name before him ; nor has he either, from that 
time, ever spoken to me about Naomi. But that he thinks of 
her, often and hourly thinks of her, and lingers in thought 
upon her, of that I am convinced.” 

“ But now people say of her,” continued her husband, “ that 
she is a lady of rank in France. I have heard it myself at 
the hall ; they say that she is coming here next summer on a 
visit. Thus the old report must have been false, or else the 
rider perhaps belonged to one of the emigrant families who 
left their country at the time of the Revolution, and may now 
be come again to honor and glory. That may very possibly 
be the case, and thus there are sense and connectedness in 
both reports.” 

On the next Sunday came Christian, the fiddler, as he was 
accustomed to be called, and he kissed and caressed the chil- 
dren, especially the youngest, the prettiest, with the bright 
brown eyes. The exterior captivates us ; that he felt truly. 
“ If I had only been handsome,” thought he, “ I should now 


300 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


have been much better off ; the noblest and the best, also, 
they pay their homage to beauty. O, what a gift of God, 
what a fountain of happiness and satisfaction, does there not 
lie in beauty ! To it the world is an Eden of love ; people 
meet it with a friendly smile upon their lips ; all love to be 
near it. His face attracts one — he must be an excellent 
man ! they are heard to say ; this countenance cannot lie ! 
Here is soul, and here beats a heart in the bosom ! Beauty 
is upon earth a better gift than genius and power of mind ! ” 
And he kissed the most beautiful of Lucie’s children j to him 
he gave the prettiest picture, the largest cake. 

“ Has not your stork besought you to greet us ? ” asked the 
youngest boy. 

“Yes, many greetings has he charged me with,” replied 
Christian. “ Now he is brisk and strong, and is certainly a 
match for his comrades at flying ; and I am afraid, therefore, 
that he will go away with the rest when they set out on their 
journey. Storks and swallows are good creatures, and there- 
fore they, too, may fly into warm countries when the crow and 
the sparrow are frozen to death. Have I told you the history 
of the stork and the swallow ? On Good Friday, as the Re- 
deemer hung on the cross, came three birds flying down : the 
first cried ‘ Plague him ! plague him ! ’ that was the crow ; the 
second cried ‘ Cheer him ! cheer him ! ’ that was the swallow ; 
the third, ‘ Strengthen him ! strengthen him ! ’ that was the 
stork. Storks and swallows, therefore, bring good luck and 
blessings ; and therefore they live in peace, and e'^erybody 
considers it a sin to do them any harm.” 

Whilst he was thus entertaining the children his thoughts 
tarried with the stork — that mystical bird, which was inter- 
woven in all the recollections of his childhood : the stork 
upon the Jew’s roof, the stork in the meadow which had en- 
ticed him out into the world, and now the stork in his own 
house, the only living creature which he had about him in his 
solitude. In the last autumn, when the storks were going 
away, he heard one evening a noise in his chimney, and as he 
examined it he found that a stork had fallen down into it, and 
that it had broken one of its legs in the fall. He bandaged 
up the poor animal, nursed it as well as he could, and in the 


ONL Y A FIDDLER / 


301 

course of the winter it became so accustomed to him that it 
remained with him when the other storks flew away, and 
sought out a place for itself every evening in the stable. 

Lucie’s children clung to Christian, and sprang about him 
in the meadows, where he made them grenadier caps of 
rushes. 

“ One cap, however, shall be for your mother,” said he to 
the lively boys ; and he curled it at the top and filled it with 
lovely field-flowers. It was a very pretty cornucopia, and 
therefore Lucie took it and hung it up over her glass. 

The dinner table was now spread ; the table-cloth was as 
white as snow ; and to-day there is something particular, said 
the children. 

Every other Sunday, when the fiddler came, their mother 
had always a dish which she would not otherwise have had. 
He might also as well come every Sunday, as he had not so 
many miles to come, said they. 

Christian was a child with the children, and bore patiently 
the hints of the schoolmaster, in which there often lay the 
sting of truth. 

•‘You will become a rich man,” said he; “you must, of 
necessity, lay up money. It is not good that man should live 
alone, therefore take a wife ; who else have you to inherit what 
you have in your coffer ? Not the society, surely, who would 
bring Catholicism again into the country ? ” And now the 
man was exactly in his element ; he raved against the Pope 
and the Catholic clergy. 

“ Catholicism has effected a deal of good,” replied Chris- 
tian. “ The seed has now produced its harvest, has given 
nutriment and strength. In the dark ages of barbarism it was 
Catholicism alone which watched over the arts and sciences ; 
Catholicism engendered the idea of a universal human society ; 
it opposed the spiritual to brute force.” 

“ But now it is worn out,” returned the schoolmaster ; “ it is 
become the oppressor of mind and of freedom.” 

“ I think,” said Christian, “ it would be more rational to 
regard it as a hot-house, which in the winter of the Middle 
Ages was a real blessing. The tender plants of love for the 
sciences shot forth kindly in the convents when they were 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


302 

hidden from the rude winter which raged without, and then 
developed themselves for the approaching summer-time. In 
this we are now living j mind and freedom have now warm 
sunshine without, everything now grows green here, and 
blooms far better than in the Catholic hot-house, in which the 
heat is artificial and the verdure has a sickly hue. With us, 
therefore, it is better in the open air ; here everything attains 
full growth, whilst in the hot-house all remains as it has ever 
been : yes, there are fewer noble trees there, because many 
now grow out in the open sunshine.” 

“ What, are you again having a wrestling match ? ” said 
Lucie, half-jestingly. 

“ He holds by the Catholics,” replied the husband : “ there 
is no longer any dealing with him.” 

“ I only wish that people would cover all religious sects 
with the mantle of love,” said Christian. ‘‘ I will sometime 
bring with me a Catholic hymn, which I obtained from an 
Italian, who told me that it was sung at Easter by the peasants 
on the mountains. In that there is as true Christianity as in 
our church hymns.” 

The sun had set and the children were asleep when Chris- 
tian took his way back to his solitary home, at a few miles’ 
distance. It was one of those beautiful moonlight evenings 
which the painter seizes upon in order to fix it on his canvas, 
and which inspires the poet to beautiful songs. The splendid 
beauty of this evening made, also, the most lively impression 
upon Christian ; he enjoyed one of those moments in which 
he again became aware that, as it were, a great intellectual 
treasure lay concealed within him, which, like a star, required 
only the favorable hour of midnight to be drawn forth out of 
concealment ; but soon all was again extinguished around him, 
and the hope alone remained to him that in another and a 
higher world that hour would arrive. Before, however, he had 
gone half way he was no longer still and joyful like the beau- 
tiful scene which surrounded him. But could he not have 
been happy ? No heart had attached itself to him with un- 
divided love, and then faithlessly torn itself away from him. 
People loved him wherever he came, and he could look forward 
to the morrow without anxiety about his daily bread. Nor was 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


303 

he one of those who are elevated through the influence of 
some powerful patron, who had to endure with gratitude being 
looked down upon ; nor the poor man who had to thank that 
patron for all that he w^as. Neither had he the pain of seeing 
how the object of his love daily received the kiss of another, 
how she incessantly dreamed of another whilst she was kind 
and gentle to him, and accepted, also, his homage. It needed 
not that he should smile to avoid betraying his sufferings. His 
life had had to bear no one crushing misfortune. The preacher 
might have said over his grave, “ His days glided away in un- 
pretending contentment ; no thunder-cloud hung threateningly 
over his head.” No ! there lay a perpetual, never-changing 
mist-cloud before his eyes ; one might look at it sO long that 
one at last imagined one saw the bright, blue heaven. 

There was no one in his home to welcome him — he was 
here solitary. Solitary and forlorn he abode, as one day all 
will abide solitary and forlorn in their graves. He kindled a 
light, laid aside his hat and his stick, closed the shutters, and 
then looked after the stork, which he already found sleeping. 
He then returned to his room and opened the blue coffer : in 
the secret drawer there lay two heavy purses ; he emptied their 
contents slowly on the table, counted the bright dollars, 
wrapped them in paper, and smiled as he had smiled on 
Lucie’s children. 

“ I have already saved so much ! ” said he to himself. 
“ This treasure is for her ! She will come back some day or 
other in her great need \ her own connections will not ac- 
knowledge her — but I will then be a brother to her ; she 
shall not endure want ! ” And again he smiled when he 
thought on the prodigal Naomi. 

Youthful folly had taken her out into the world ; that could 
come to no good end. Some time or other she would come 
back with a wandering troop, poor and sickly ; he had once 
dreamed so, and he believed it firmly and surely. How often 
he went to the public-house, or to the next village whenever 
he heard of jugglers being come there ! He sought for Naomi, 
because for her he had really saved the bright dollars. 

The Bible, the fiddle, and the stork, were his three friends. 
The creature hopped out of the garden into his room, flew 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 


304 

into the birch wood on the other side of the meadow, and al- 
ways came back again to its stable. 

“But wilt thou stop with me over the winter? ” said he to 
the dumb animal ; “ wilt thou not fly away with thy race to- 
ward the warm countries ? Ah, fly ! but who could fly ? I 
at one time hoped to advance far, but I am compelled to stay 
here, and never shall go forth ! Thou wilt perhaps see her ! 
Perhaps thou wilt fly over the grave of my father ! ” With 
this he took a red ribbon, wrote upon it the words, “ Greeting 
out of Denmark ! ” and binding it around the stork’s leg said, 
“ Fly now away, as far as I am concerned, with the rest, but 
come back again in spring ! Thirteen years is it now since I 
saw her for the last time : she may have changed very much in 
this time : but she remains in my mind just as young and as 
beautiful, with the very same proud glance, as when she left 
me in the public-house. 0, if I had but been as handsome as 
the horse-rider ! ” His thoughts flew far forth into the world. 

“How often children, as well boys as girls, are ugly in 
their early youth, and after some years, when their features 
and forms become developed, we see that plainness in them 
changed into beauty, and we love them because of it. Thus 
will it also be after death ; in the new life they, whose exte- 
rior repelled us here, will there win us to them and be beloved 
by us, when the hard forms change themselves into beautiful 
features. Our human bodies are, indeed, only a mask ; the 
ragged beggar may be a stately nobleman when the clothing 
of poverty falls off.” Such was Christian’s quiet dream. 

September, the glorious period of Danish scenery, was 
come ; he then dreamed the strangest thing about Naomi, and 
as in so doing he woke, the dream was vividly impressed upon 
his mind ; in the morning hour, however, the remembrance 
of it was gone from him. The only thing that he could re- 
call was, that she had leaned her head upon his breast and 
had said, “ I die ! grant to me a grave in thy flower-garden ! ” 

This dream depressed his mind. He read a hymn, and 
sought for words of consolation in his Bible. 

On the following afternoon as he went through the village, 
he heard the sound of a trumpet and the merry cries and 
shouts of peasants and boys. Old women stood behind their 
garden doors, and looked along the village street 


OjVLV A FIDDLER! 


305 

“ What is there to be seen ? ” asked Christian. “ They are 
players who will exhibit their arts in the public-house,” was 
the reply. 

And now he saw a man in a dirty and miserable comedy- 
suit, riding upon a wretched horse. Upon the man’s knee sat 
a little girl with beautiful dark eyes, who held a tambourine in 
her hand. He announced with a loud voice that the most 
glorious comedy, with movable puppets, would be given this 
afternoon in the public-house ; and also, at the same time, all 
kinds of unimaginable sleight-of-hand tricks would be exhib- 
ited : all of which, as a matter of course, succeeded. His 
face was painted white ; he made the most horrible grimaces. 
The little girl looked sickly, and as often as the father blew 
the trumpet she struck the tambourine. 

Christian remembered his dream, and thought of Naomi. 
If that should be her husband, her child .? He went to the 
public-house. 

There stood in the yard the caravan of the juggler family, 
provided with its canvas covering ; upon its tent-like top lay 
an old bed-quilt to dry. The wretched theatre was erected in 
the stable, and the dirty and tattered puppets lay and hung 
about. A stout woman with a dark countenance, and with un- 
covered black hair, which was turning gray, sat near it, and 
had a little boy on her knee. She was very untidily dressed, 
and was feeding the child. A somewhat younger woman sat 
near to her, who was occupied in fastening stars of gold-paper 
on the breast of a large wooden puppet. Christian spoke to 
her j his voice trembled ; but he was soon convinced that 
neither of them was Naomi. 

How often had he not already been deceived in a similar 
way ! and yet he was glad that the lost one was not found 
again in this company. The view of so much poverty, and the 
recollection of his dream, moved him deeply. 

When he returned again to his dwelling he missed the stork. 

He will be coming ! ” thought he, and therefore left the 
stable-door standing open. “ Who knows whether he be not 
already gone across the salt sea with the others ! The leaves 
become yellower every day.” 

This night he slept very uneasily ; he rose with the sun, and 
20 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


306 

went into his little garden. Yes, Naomi had besought him, 
in his dream, to give her here a grave. Suddenly he heard in 
the meadow beyond a strange rushing sound, and saw im- 
mediately how the storks were circling by hundreds in wild 
confusion in the air. They were trjdng and proving their 
strength, as the country people say. He saw how some of 
them were tumbled over by the others, and struck to death 
with their sharp beaks. After that the whole flock, amid a 
universal clattering, flew aloft in the air and vanished. 

Christian went into the meadow. Here lay seven storks 
dead in the grass ; the feathers which had been plucked out 
were still flying in the air. 

“ Nature did not give you strength enough, and therefore 
you must die, you poor creatures! You could not fly with 
them into warmer countries ! ” said he, pensively, as he looked 
around him. There lay one among the dead which had a red 
ribbon bound around its leg. Christian raised it up and took 
it in his arms : the creature was still warm, the blood flecked 
the white feathers, and the long neck hung down dead. It 
was his stork ; he pressed it to his breast. 

“ Thus is my dream fulfilled ! ” said he. “ Thee, not her, 
I hold in my arms I Thou shalt have a grave among the 
flowers of my garden ! And he kissed the dead bird, 
pulled a white and a black feather out of its wings, and 
placed them above his looking-glass. He then went into 
the garden, dug a grave, scattered it with green leaves, 
laid the stork in it, and covered it again with earth. The 
wild rose-tree, full of yellow-green fruit, stood above the 
grave of the bird. 

“ Now am I again alone ! ” sighed the deserted Christian. 
“ Thou wilt not come back to me again when the spring re- 
turns ! Dead liest thou there ! — Dead ? All of us will die 
one day ! We shall lose everything 1 Why do we not live for 
the passing time ? Why should we not be happy ? — Certainly ! 
I will rightly enjoy the last sunshine of this year ; I will glad- 
den myself with the cheerful frosty weather, and will greet 
coming spring joyfully.” 

But with the winter came only rain, thaw, snow, and dark 
days. The trees in the wood dripped with water ; their 


ONLY A FIDDLER I 


307 

dark twigs looked in the mist as if they were wrapped in cob- 
web. The whole of nature was a larva, which not until 
months were passed would come forth in the warmth-giving 
beams of the sun. 

Christian became poorly, yet still he was, every other Sun- 
day, a certain and welcome guest in Lucie’s house ; but only 
every other Sunday. It surprised her, therefore, when he 
came during the week, and was looking uncommonly pale. 

“ I am very well,” said he, “ but I had not much to do, 
and I longed to see the children, and so I am come.” 

He had besides this also heard some news ; but he did not 
speak of that until later. The gardener at the hall had told 
him that in the spring strangers were expected there ; one 
of them a French gentleman of family, with his wife, and that 
this lady was Naomi. She had been married to this gentleman 
many years ago, was very rich, and of high rank. As he said 
this the tears were in his eyes. ‘‘ No,” said he, “ I do not 
feel very well ; every trifle goes to my heart.” 

Lucie offered him her hand. 

How solitary and forlorn was his home to him now ! How 
often had he counted his treasure when he thought on Naomi ! 
Now the little secret drawer was no more opened ; the bright 
dollars were no longer counted. 

The winter was long, and so dark ! — but it was a good 
winter for the poor, people said, because the frost was not 
severe. But there was so much mist, so very much mist ; the 
air was always gray ! It was an autumn which extended far 
into the spring. 

When the friendly sun shone on the first beautiful day of 
May, Lucie’s children stood mournfully by Christian’s sick-bed ; 
their mother nursed him. 

“Thank thee for all thy love, Lucie,” said Christian. 
“ Here is it still good in the world, and the people are also 
good. I now am quite convinced of that which thou saidst 
to me many years ago : ‘ The common gifts to man are so 
great, that it is sinful to desire uncommon abilities from the 
Divinity.’ He who is placed aloft is exposed to the sharp 
winds ; we who stand lowly feel them not. Dost thou not 
know the beautiful hymn, — 


3o8 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 

j = < Within the vale grow roses sweet, 

And Jesus there we meet ? ’ 

Theban who distinguishes himself, stands in the beams of 
thaisun ; b^STlikSbl&ams scorch him. AVe might, therefore, 
eni^him, that to him was lent a greater susceptibility for the 
enjoroen^of that which surrou^s hitti, were it not that with 
this qul«^;;^^gQ>^i:s|'ttl's'6.iinOTg^sceptible than we to that 
which a warm heart what others 

receive coldly ; he invites us to a feast, and we go, like the 
evil birds of which I have read — the harpies, to defile him.” 

Thus, no longer himself, he censured the whole human race, 
though he but a few moments before had called them good 
and full of love. 

“ Our thoughts are vain, our deeds are nothing,” continued 
he. That which we call great and immortal, will be one 
day like the charcoal inscription on the prison walls : it is 
visited with curiosity, and gazed at. 

“ When I am dead, give my Bible to thy children. There 
lies within it a treasure which can be corrupted neither by 
moth nor by rust. I should like to see Naomi before I die,” 
said he wdth a glorified look ; “yes, I shall see her again — 
that I feel ! ” 

“ Do not talk of dying,” prayed Lucie. “ Thou wilt not 
die yet ; we shall still live many years together I ” 


The swallows were come and the stork sat again upon his 
nest : the Dane was proud of his green woods. At that time 
Lucie laid together the hands of the dead, closed his eyes, 
and showed the children, for the last time, the dear, good 
Christian ; and the little ones wept aloud. 

“It is well with him,” said she ; “ better than it ever was 
before.” 

The coffin-lid was screwed down, and peasants carried the 
simple coffin from the house ; Lucie, her husband, and her 
children, followed the body. The road to the church-yard was 
narrow ; there came driving along it a gentleman's carriage 
with four horses. They were strangers who were driving to 


ONLY A FIDDLER! 3O9 

the hall ; it was the French Marquis and the honorable 
Naomi. 

The peasants stepped into the ditch with the coffin, to give 
the great gentlefolks room to pass ; they uncovered their 
heads respectfully ; and the noble lady, with the proud look 
and the charming smile, looked from the window and bowed. 

He was only a poor man whom they bore to the grave — 
only a fiddler ! 


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